


White

by ChrisEvansDesireDiaries



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom, Sunshine (2007)
Genre: Actor Chris Evans, Angst and Feels, F/M, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sunshine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisEvansDesireDiaries/pseuds/ChrisEvansDesireDiaries
Summary: After many years of leading a new life and moving on from your past, your old flame contacts you out of the blue.  Against your better judgement, you agree to meet up with him, convinced that you are well over him and that those days were behind you.  He shocks you when he tells you that he is about to board The Icarus II, and that he will be on a mission to save all of mankind, and suddenly, all bets are off.  What should have been a casual dinner with an old friend turns into an emotional roller coaster, and something you weren’t prepared to handle. What happens when the ice around your heart starts to melt? He makes you feel alive, and he’s about to be over 90 million miles away. Warnings: sexual content, swearing, adult themes, mentions of previous sexual activity while underage, mentions of past sexual assault, 18+.
Relationships: Mace (Sunshine)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on my tumblr under the username jennygirl201, but I am attempting to start posting my work on this platform. I own no rights to the movie. This creative content is my own, please do not steal.

White. Everything was white, all the time. And cold. It was the norm, but it was still maddening. For most of your life, you knew nothing but cold air, snow and ice. It was a way of living now. But the faint and distant memories of different seasons stayed with you from a young age. Playing in the leaves, watching flowers bloom, seeing wildlife, it all happened sometime decades ago. You should have been used to it now, and yet you weren’t.  
You sat in your car, not wanting to get out. Not just because of the brutal sting from the air, but because you hadn’t quite come to terms with what was about to happen. Just to your right, a couple feet from the road, sat a restaurant that you had never been to, in a town you had never visited, in a place completely unfamiliar to you. And in that restaurant, someone was waiting for you, someone you hadn’t seen in many years. Your hands were clammy inside your gloves, not from the heat inside your car, but from your nerves that just wouldn’t settle. What were you even doing there? None of it made any logical sense. And knowing that made it even harder for you to muster up the courage to go inside. If your friends knew what you were about to do, they would have thought you were crazy. If your parents knew, they would have criticized you to no end. If your fiancé knew…  
Perhaps it was best not to think about that.  
You bought yourself some more time, sitting in the idling car and now playing with the diamond ring that sat on your finger, running your other fingers over the fabric covering it. Maybe you were reminding yourself that you were committed. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself to put the car in drive and leave, to go back home and live your life like this moment was never even going to happen. But the phone call would have still haunted you. It had been so long since you last heard his voice that you almost dropped your phone when he told you it was him calling. After not hearing from him for so long, he had the nerve to ask you to meet him somewhere. But then again, you had ghosted him as well. He didn’t say why he wanted to see you, only that it was important. It had to have been, right? He sounded sincere, but then again, he always knew how to talk to you, how to convince you to do things you didn’t think you would do. That was the history the two of you had, him somehow talking you into something. Didn’t you convince yourself that you were over that? It was in the past, it was done, you had moved on, spell broken.  
And yet there you were, after driving seven hours through the snow and whiteout conditions, after cursing at yourself and hitting your steering wheel in frustration and guilt, after lying to your friends, family and fiancé about where you were going. A conference you said… and they bought it. There you go again, lying to cover up the fact that you were going to see him. Clearly, you hadn’t changed that much.  
Enough, it was time to go in.  
You huffed as you finally shut off your car and opened the door, immediately feeling the bitterly brisk air bite at your warm skin. You may have wanted to drag your feet, but the low temps were going to assure you hurried inside. The snow crunched under your boots, and you wrapped your arms around yourself to hold onto some body heat. It was a particularly cold day, and with the windchill it had to have been below zero, not the usual balmy 20 degrees for that time of year. What time of year was it supposed to be again? Fall, it was supposed to be fall. But fundamentally, every day was winter.  
Upon entering the restaurant, the smell of food hit your senses, and the warmth from the in-house fireplace that was burning on the far end of the small dining room. You looked around, scanning the tables and booths, looking for the familiar face you were there to see. It was such a small place, with rich colors and a cozy feeling, romantic in a weird sort of way. You didn’t see him. Did he stand you up? Or had it been so long that you didn’t remember his face? You thought you would never forget that face. And then you saw the hand waving in the air, trying to get your attention. You looked to your right and saw him leaning out of the booth, cajoling you over with a small smile.  
There he was. Your heart quickened and you clutched your purse a little tighter. Your feet seemed to move towards him involuntarily, but your brain was still trying to decide whether or not to turn and run away. There was a lump in your throat you tried to swallow down. As you neared him, so many memories came flooding back to you, all in a flash. Some good, some bad, all reminding you of heartache. The fighting with your family, the embarrassment from people in your town, the inner turmoil of trying to separate right from wrong…the excitement, the passion, the thrill.  
Your secret.  
Your feet suddenly slowed, unsure of the path ahead, but you were already there, just a few steps away. He got to his feet and stood, his tall frame feeling both off-putting and enticing, like a home you once knew but tried to run away from many times before. He was all too familiar, the broad shoulders, only somehow even broader now, you could see the girth in his arms from under his sweater and, oh, how you missed the feeling of those arms around you. But that was wrong, you couldn’t think about that. Not with that ring on your finger. His eyes were set firmly on you, like two blue orbs that were looking right through to your very soul. He knew you well, although you tried to convince yourself otherwise. That crooked smile that crossed his pink lips added a charming affect to his sharp jawline and chiseled pale face. Oh yes, that boyish charm, that face that was burned into your memory. And yet he looked so different. He looked like a man, a different version of the boy who clouded so much of your memory. Neither of you spoke at first, you only stared at each other.  
“James Mace.” you spoke is so softly, just loud enough for you both to hear. It tasted weird on your tongue.  
“Hey Y/N.” his voice tone was low, but still expressing happiness for your presence.  
This was awkward. You wanted to reach out your hand and offer to shake his, but that felt wrong with the long history the two of you had. Then you thought maybe a hug, but that may have been too much, given the current situation. Instead, you clenched and unclenched your fists at your sides, unsure of what to do. Apparently, he was unsure too, because he stood there eyeballing you for a few moments. Finally, he motioned with an extended hand for you to sit opposite of him in the booth. You nodded, taking off your coat and setting it and your purse in the booth before sliding in. He sat across from you and smiled, and there was no doubt that his smile was genuine, but the confidence behind the smile might have been a little less than so.  
“It’s good to see you.” He offered, and then licked his lips, “God, how long has it been?” he squinted his eyes, as if trying to calculate it.  
“Ten years,” You realized you may have sounded too eager to answer the questions, “I think”. You finished. You didn’t want him to think you had been counting the time that had passed since you last saw each other.  
“Wow.” he leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table, getting closer to you, “I knew it had been a while, but I wasn’t quite sure.”  
There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you.  
“So…” you started, trying to sound relaxed, despite your heart pounding in your chest, “What’s wrong?”  
“What’s wrong?” he repeated the question, like it had confused him.  
“Well, yeah. I mean, we haven’t spoken in years and then suddenly,” you shrugged a shoulder, “I get a phone call.”  
“Yeah.” He nodded and looked away. “There’s nothing wrong, really. I guess I just…” he paused with his lips parted. He looked like he was trying to find the right words, but instead just shook his head.  
“How did you even get my number?” you had planned on asking him that the moment you saw him, but it had slipped your mind until then.  
“Well, you’re a shrink, and your number is listed on the internet, so…” he made it sound so nonchalant.  
“Psychologist.” You corrected him. He looked at you with eyes full of mischief and placed his open palm to his chest.  
“My mistake.” He apologized, but not really. No surprise. James Mace apologized to no one.  
“So, you were just browsing the internet, looking for a psychologist, and found my name?” you questioned him more, sounding bitter. Did you mean to come off so harsh? Maybe.  
“No, I wasn’t looking for a psychologist, per se.” he leaned back in his side of the booth.  
“So, what, you randomly thought to look up my name after all these years?” you got bolder.  
“Okay,” he held out his hands defensively before he placed them on the table, “Let me explain.”  
“Please do.” You placed your elbow on the table and rested your chin on your fist. Your eyes were set firmly on his face, daring him to say something that would incriminate him.  
“I…I saw your name listed as a psychologist of interest at NASA.” He shared. Now, you were truly interested. Only a very few people knew about your brief line of communication with NASA a year back. You watched his expression change to a softer one, with another charming crooked smile, “Always knew you would be successful in whatever it was you decided to do. It’s a big deal, being considered for a mission by NASA.” He complimented you. “I should be congratulating you on your success.”  
“Thank you.” You were somewhat surprised by his sweetness, and you lowered your fist from your chin, putting your guard down some. “But that still doesn’t explain…”  
“I was being considered as well.” He cut you off. “Obviously, not for psychology, but as an engineer.” You had wondered what career path he would have chosen. When you last saw him, he was serving in the military.  
“So, you left the army and went into engineering?” you questioned him.  
“Yeah.” He chuckled as he nodded, “Doesn’t sound like me, does it?”  
“No, not really.” You admitted, looking away from him briefly.  
A waitress came up and topped off his coffee mug, which he thanked her for. The woman turned to you and asked if you wanted anything. You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Then again, you weren’t planning on staying long. You thought for a second as she touched her pen to her pad of paper and then replied firmly that you weren’t going to be staying long and didn’t want anything.  
“Wait, what?” he interrupted you, “You don’t want anything?” he questioned you.  
“I just said, I wasn’t planning on staying long.” You repeated yourself.  
“You just drove how long to get here?” he questioned you more.  
“A while.”  
“A while. Like, what? A few hours?”  
“A little more than that.” You weren’t about to tell him you drove seven hours to see him. He must have seen right through you, just like in the old days, because he furrowed his brow and asked another question.  
“Do you still live in our home town?” he investigated. You didn’t answer, even though it was true. Instead you opened your mouth, only to close it again. “Oh my God, so you drove way more than a few hours Y/N.” he calculated it in his head.  
“I don’t need anything.” You tried to confirm your original response one last time.  
“Nonsense,” he turned back to the waitress, “Can you bring another cup of coffee and two menus?”  
“Sure.” The woman walked away and you turned back to your old flame with heat under your collar.  
“No, no, James, I’m fine.”  
“You drove all this way and you don’t want coffee for the drive back? How will you stay awake?”  
You stayed silent. The waitress returned rather quickly with a cup of coffee and two menus and placed everything on the table before walking away again. You turned back to him, to protest a little more, but he already had a sickening smirk across his lips that made you go quiet.  
“You weren’t planning on driving back, were you?”  
“James…” you spoke his name and closed your eyes in frustration.  
“They call me Mace now.”  
“Really?” your eyes snapped open to give him an annoyed look, “Well I’ve never called you that, so I’m not about to start.”  
“You called me a lot of things.” He jested. You felt something in your gut. Was it churning from disgust, or was it butterflies at the memory?  
“Look, I drove all this way because I thought there was something wrong. And the weather is nasty so I made arrangements to get a hotel.” You very quickly spit out, not giving him a chance to interrupt. “Don’t get any ideas. This was NOT something I did just because it’s you.” You gave him a warning.  
“Never said you did.” His smirk stayed plastered to his face.  
“Yeah but you were thinking it.” Your expression didn’t match his at all.  
“How do you know what I’m thinking? Are you psychoanalyzing me?” he played at you more.  
“You know what,” you suddenly had enough and reached for your coat and purse. “This was a bad idea.”  
“Y/N,” he tried to stop you.  
“I should have never come here. I knew better.” You went to slide out of the booth.  
“Y/N wait.” He tried to stop you again.  
You got to your feet and were just about to take that first stride to the door. It was better to head home and avoid any inuendoes or references to your past with this man than to sit there and continue to play whatever game he had been trying to get you caught up in. A firm hand grasping your wrist stopped you, and you spun your head around and looked back to see that he had lunged across the table, knocking over his coffee, in an attempt to stop you. You wanted to snap at him, or curse at him, or to do something that would shock him into letting you go. But it was his eyes that stopped you. His entire demeanor had changed, his eyes were wide with panic, and he seemed desperate to keep you there. You looked down at his fingers, feeling them pressing into your skin, and then you looked back up at his face.  
“Don’t go.” He sounded like he did over the phone. Like he needed you.  
“What’s going on?” you finally asked the question as directly as you meant to that entire time.  
“I’ve been recruited to go on The Icarus II.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation continues now that he’s dropped the bomb on you. You both attempt to take an easy trip down memory lane, but old memories bring back old feelings.

The waitress was nice enough to relocate the two of you two a different table with a clean and dry tablecloth. You both sat there silently for the longest time, letting the weight of his news linger and settle. You stirred your coffee after adding the cream and sugar to your liking, and you listened to the silver spoon clink against the sides of the mug as you gazed out the window, at the dark and snowy void. James, or Mace as he had said, was busy looking over his menu. You had always known him as James. Even when you were younger, and his friends called him Jim, or his parents called him Jimmy, you had always called him James. This was the same person in front of you that you had seen countless of times before. So why did he suddenly feel like a stranger? The name? The news? Your own dissonance?   
“You know I was going to order food earlier, but I figured I’d wait.” He spoke up without taking his eyes off of the menu, “I had a feeling you would be late.” You turned to him but didn’t answer, “You’re always late.” He chuckled to himself. “Been that way forever.”  
“I guess you think you know me pretty well.”  
He scoffed, “I know I do.” It was a true statement. “I knew you were going to be late, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on time for anything outside of your usual obligations.”  
“The weather held me up a bit.” You lied, or tried to.   
“I knew you would put two creams and three sugars in your coffee, because you like it sweet.” He glanced up and smirked again, “You always had a sweet tooth.”  
“How long have you known that you were leaving?” you changed the subject suddenly. You watched him fold up his menu and set it back down on the table.   
“About a year.” His tone had changed, suddenly he wasn’t being playful anymore.  
“When do you leave?”  
“A month.” He replied. It took him this long to reach out to you?   
Of course, you couldn’t be mad. You had made it so he couldn’t contact you many years ago. You changed your cell number, you made all of your social media accounts private after deleting him, you had even moved away for college. You were just about to ask another question when the waitress returned. James ordered himself a steak, rare, with a side of fries and a side salad. You would have guessed that would be his order, that typical manly act. And then he offhandedly added on a beer, pushing away his coffee. You knew him just as well as he knew you. This was him getting comfortable. The coffee was formal, to keep him alert and on his toes with what he was going to say. The beer was to relax, maybe to help him get out whatever was on his mind. And in his mind, the rest of this encounter was going to be casual. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that. When the waitress turned to you, you realized you hadn’t even looked at the menu.   
“She’ll have the chicken parm, less sauce on the noodles, and a side salad with vinaigrette.” He spoke up for you. Your eyes darted to him, wide in the witness of his audacity. “You want a glass of wine or anything?” he asked, raising his brows, illustrating that it was an honest question.   
“Just some water, please.” You turned to the waitress, suddenly just accepting the order he had placed for you. The funny thing was, he remembered how you would have ordered it after all of these years. There may have been other things on the menu, but you just went along with it. Just like the old days. Too much like the old days.   
The waitress nodded and walked off with the menus, leaving you alone with your old flame again. He leaned forward with his arms on the table and looked at you, really looked at you, and smiled. You suddenly felt defenseless, wondering what was going on in his mind. You started to feel uncomfortable under his gaze and started looking around, at the windows, at the other tables, anywhere but back at him. How could you even bring yourself to look at him when he had just dropped such a bomb on you?  
“You look great.” He broke the ice, again. Your eyes shifted back to him, and then down at the white tablecloth. You swallowed hard, battling over feeling offended or giving in to the little flutter of your heart. “Really, you do.” He pressed the matter further. Typical James, always bold.  
“I’m engaged.” You finally admitted it to him. You were hoping it would stop him from trying to flirt any further, but also maybe to set boundaries for yourself. Your boundaries always seemed to slip when it came to him.   
“I know.” He replied simply, “I heard.”  
“From who?” you were a little shocked.  
“You printed an announcement in the paper back home,” he answered as he reached for his beer, lifting it to his lips but pausing, “People talk. Especially in that town.” He finally took a pull from the bottle.  
“So, who told you?”  
“It’s not important, is it?”  
“Kind of.”   
“Did you not want me to know?” he fired a question right back at you. You scoffed and crossed your arms.   
“It’s not about that, I wouldn’t have told you myself if I didn’t want you to know.”  
“Okay, fair enough.” He ended the debate there. Or so you thought, “What’s his name?”  
“I thought you said you knew about the announcement.”  
“I did, but I forgot the guy’s name.” he chuckled. You hesitated.  
“Doug.”   
“Doug,” he repeated the name, “Is he good to you?”  
“Very much.” You looked him square in the eyes.   
“Good, I’d hate to have to kick his ass.” He tried to joke some more, but you just clenched your jaw in response, not amused with him. “When’s the wedding?”  
“May.” You gave another short answer. You watched as his eyes slowly fell back down to the table.   
“Was I not going to get an invite?” he tried to joke.  
“James…” you didn’t even know how to respond to that.  
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He showed a small smile, “Besides, I’m leaving next month.”  
There was a moment of silence.  
“How long will you be gone?” you inquired.   
“Few years.” He answered with a small shrug, “There’s a lot of variables, hard to nail it down exactly.”  
There was more silence.  
“Are you scared?” you couldn’t help but ask. He drew in a deep breath and sighed, looking out the window.  
“Not really. If anything, I’m excited.” He may have been fibbing.   
“Can’t wait to be a hero?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, knowing his ego and how it dictated him. He laughed a bit.   
“Can’t wait to make a difference.”  
“That’s it?” you weren’t buying it, “You’re saving mankind. You seem to be taking it rather lightly.” You pressed him further, and he shrugged a shoulder again. The small smirk on your lips vanished as you realized there was more going on in his head. But it was a gamble on whether or not he would share anything further. “What’s really going on?” he didn’t answer, but he reached up and scratched his chin, perhaps delaying. “You called me here for a reason.”  
“I just…” he paused, “I didn’t want to leave with things…not being how I imagined it.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“If I tell you, will you charge me?” he tried to joke more, another defense mechanism of his. You both chuckled.   
“It’s on the house.” You tried to match his level of humor.   
“Well,” he rubbed his hands together and looked away from you, “I made sure to make things the best they could be with my family and friends, and I’ve got my will in place,” your heart sped up a bit when he mentioned a will, “But I’m just thinking about all of the things I didn’t get to do.”  
“Do…do you think…you’re not going to make it back?” you weren’t sure how to ask him. He only shrugged again. “Why do you think that?”  
“A lot can happen. A lot of things can go wrong.” He paused, “But I think it’s just, you know, having to make a will and make those plans, but that’s standard procedure. I mean, everyone who goes to space does those things.”  
Did they? There was no way you would know for sure really.  
“I guess… what I really mean is, if something were to happen, there are things I never got to do.”  
“Like what?”  
“Things I never thought about until recently. I don’t know, like…I never travelled, I wish I had gone to more sporting events…” he trailed off.   
“Well, even if you did travel the world, you’d basically be seeing a lot of white anyway.” You chuckled, “And there aren’t a lot of sporting events now with everything.”  
“Yeah, I know, I know.” He nodded. “Just little things like that.” And then he paused, “I never settled down or started a family.”   
It just so happened that you had taken a sip of your water and ended up almost choking on it. You tried to hide how badly you had been caught off guard and downplay your coughing, but he still got concerned. “You okay?” he asked. You nodded and cleared your throat before taking another sip. You could feel the heat rising on your collar from his admission. “You sure?”  
“Just wasn’t expecting that answer from you.” You certainly weren’t about to tell him why.   
“Why? Do I not seem like the kind of guy that wants kids?” he questioned. You willed yourself to stay cool, to not let your face go hot or your hands to shake. Did he know?   
“I just…I guess I never got that vibe from you.” You spoke honestly.   
“Time changes a person.” He spoke some words of wisdom, and you nodded slowly in agreement. “I guess I just started to think about what it would be like if I didn’t make it back and I didn’t have a family. Like if I didn’t leave a legacy of some kind.”  
“And what if you did? Did you think about how much it would hurt them to deal with the aftermath of your death?” you questioned him, almost offended at his lack of thought. If he died, people would be hurt. You would be hurt. Even if you wanted to hide it. You became frazzled and reached for your water again, “It’s not even worth talking about honestly, because you’re going to be fine.” You reassured him, mostly to get off of the topic. You gulped down some water and looked at him as you set the glass down, and the smile he was wearing was warm and genuine. It lit you up from the inside out.   
“You’d miss me?” of course he picked up on it, but you didn’t answer, instead you chewed your lip a bit, “I mean, I get it…we have history.”  
How dare he.  
“History?” the word came out of your lips with enough angst for him to feel it on the other side of the table, and he sat back, maybe sensing your reaction.   
Before you could speak again, the waitress reappeared with a basket of breadsticks for the table, and to politely let the two of you know that your food would be ready soon. You both thanked her, and she excused herself again. You started to grind your teeth, happy that the woman’s presence had interrupted your irritated reaction, but also not wanting to let it slide. The man sitting in front of you had been such a large part of your life, and you were not about to let him downplay it.   
“History?” you repeated, in a more hushed tone.  
“Relationship.” He corrected himself.   
“Sure,” you huffed, “I mean… I don’t even know what to call it. We never really were official or gave each other titles or anything.” Now you were trying to downplay it, and you weren’t quite sure why. Maybe you were trying to distance yourself from the memories that were coming back.   
“No, we never called each other boyfriend or girlfriend, but you were my girl. Everybody knew that.” The timbre of his voice resonated in your head and in your chest, and you looked away from him, not being able to bear it at that moment.   
“James,” you started slowly, “It was so long ago. We were kids. It’s okay to look back at it and say we were confused…or maybe we just didn’t know what we were doing…”  
“Confused?” then he sounded offended, and his face scrunched up at the word that had thoughtlessly slipped from your lips. “No, there was no confusion. Not on my part. I know we were kids but I knew how I felt about you.”  
“Mace,” you addressed him by his new nickname, and it felt foreign, “Do you not remember how it all started?” he huffed in response and shook his head, “Need I remind you of how it all played out?” he knew you were about to take him to task over it.   
“We were in middle school. My friend dared me to kiss you after class. I knew you were going to say ‘no’, so I just grabbed your face and sort of smashed my lips onto yours.” He started chuckling fondly at the memory, “I had no idea what I was doing. And you hit me across the face for it.” He shuffled in his seat a bit and smiled wider, “And then we ended up in detention together for it. I remember you telling me how mad your parents were that their perfect little girl got detention, and that it was all my fault.”  
“You’re remembering it wrong.” you informed him after swallowing the lump in your throat.  
“Am I?”  
“It started way before that. You bullied me and tortured me and teased me relentlessly for years.” You set him straight, and he narrowed his eyes as he inspected you, “Yes! You did! In elementary school you grabbed me by my pigtails and pulled me down into a mud puddle. And before that you used to call me names and tease me. Don’t you remember your mom dragging you to my house to force you to apologize?”  
“I do remember that.” He sounded pained as he admitted it. “But I never really considered that part of our courtship.”  
“Courtship? Oh God…” you groaned as you rubbed your temples.   
“My mom used to always tell me that I was being mean to you because I liked you. And I didn’t believe her until that first day of eighth grade. You came in to the classroom and you just looked so different. The pigtails were gone, you weren’t wearing some dress like you always did, and you just looked like you started to grow up.” He smiled again as he recalled that day, “I remembering thinking ‘wow she got hot’.” The sarcastic laughter that broke from deep within your chest caught you both off guard, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep from drawing attention to yourself. What a ridiculous thing to say.  
“That’s so stupid.” You finally managed to speak.   
“It’s true!”  
“But let’s not forget you bragging to your friends in high school about how you were going to bed the bible thumping chick from your science class.” You made sure each word was laced with the disgust you were feeling just from recalling that event. “We had already started… whatever we were doing at the time. And you humiliated me by saying that. I dare you to try and tell me you don’t remember that, or that it was part of some type of courtship.” He stayed silent for a moment before responding.   
“Look, I was young and stupid. I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just showing off.” He held out his hands in defense, “I’m truly sorry about that.” You scoffed and shook your head, turning away from him. “Hey,” he reached out and touched your hand, “I really am sorry about that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You kept your eyes off on the distance outside the large window.   
That familiar prickling feeling started to nag at you, and your eyes were threatening to start watering up, which surprised you. How on earth was something that had happened years ago, something you had moved on from, bothering you so much in that moment? Suddenly there were flashbacks of high school bullying from other girls, whispering rumors about you and calling you a slut behind your back, but loud enough for you to still hear it. At a slumber party, some girls had taken it upon themselves to stuff your bag full of condoms, and you cried by yourself in the bathroom while waiting for your mother to come pick you up. You had never dreamed of being that kind of girl, and you felt like you had let your parents down, or the other people who went to church with you and listened to the words your father preached every Sunday morning. There was a strong sense of pride you felt as the pastor’s daughter, and you had been determined to save yourself until marriage.   
But that didn’t happen.   
For years you struggled with yourself, there was a tremendous internal battle you were facing in the silence of your own mind, in the silence of your own secrets. That chastity bracelet your father had given you on your thirteenth birthday meant nothing after James Mace had charmed you right out of your pink, frilly panties. The guilt and rage you felt after the fact was enough to drown you, and you swore you would never do it again. Hell, you even went to the river for your father to baptize you and declare you a virgin again. But deep down, you knew the damage had already been done, it wasn’t like your innocence had really healed. And that’s probably what made it easier for you to do it again, and again, and again, until you lost track of how many times you had given yourself to him.   
Your father had always preached that sin was an easy thing to do, because sin was tempting and often times sweet to the tongue, but did anyone truly have any idea how hard it was? You couldn’t deny yourself from James, not ever. You had wanted him as badly as he had wanted you. You made the grown-up decision to be entangled with him, to give yourself to him. And then he had disappeared one day, he was just gone, vanished right into thin air, and you felt like he had walked away with the prize of your very soul. Now here he was again, bringing up ancient history in a way that seemed so innocent and charming that it might as well had been harmless. He could bring up distant memories and joke all he wanted, but he ripped your heart out and ran off with it. You couldn’t even begin to count the tears you had spilled over him. And now here you two were, sitting in front of each other, trying to pretend like everything was fine.   
The dam that was holding your patience in tact and sparing him your anger began to crack and crumble. You turned back to him with a look of fire in your eyes, and not even the tears brimming were going to douse it.   
“Are you mad at me?” he questioned, innocently.   
“Of course, I am.” The honestly of your answer was apparent in your tone, “But I’m madder at myself. Because after all of that, after everything you put me through in school and that disgusting thing you had said to your friends…I still gave you my virginity.” You drew in a quick breath, “And my parents never forgave me. I never forgave myself. I felt so used. You would sweet talk me into something one minute and have me crying the next.”  
There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and you swore you saw shock and hurt behind the cerulean in his eyes. You abruptly got out of your seat and started rushing to the bathroom, needing to collect yourself before uttering even another word to him. Your sanity was slipping away at the painful past you were hoping to never live through again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: You try to compose yourself while going through all of the old memories, both good and bad. You try to confront Mace about his disappearance and he exposes a ten year secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: adult themes, sexual content, mentions of loss of virginity, language

Luckily, the restroom was empty, and you were free to pace back and forth without looking like an idiot. The sound of your feet on the tile floor and your heavy breathing echoed in the chilly bathroom as you tried to shake your nerves out of your arms and fingers. This was ridiculous, beyond crazy and stupid. You were a psychologist for god’s sake. Dealing with emotions was literally your job, but it was always easier when it was someone else’s emotions and not your own.   
“Come on.” You coached yourself as you quit pacing and leaned your weight on our arms on the counter top. “Come on, don’t do this.” You willed away the tears the best you could, but a few managed to slip down your cheeks regardless. “Shit. Come on.” You drew in a deep breath and tried to calibrate.   
You felt like there was a different person inside of you that you had hidden for a long time, and she was starting to come out again. James had that power over you, even if you tried to deny it. Despite all of the teasing and bullying in school, you still got butterflies when he gave you a Valentine’s day card in class, noticing that yours was always different from anyone else’s. When he had grabbed your face and kissed you in middle school, you hit him because that’s what your friends would have done, but the truth was you went to bed that night with a giddy smile on your face. And when he had finally really and truly kissed you years later, it was the moment you had been praying for since that first terrible kiss in the hallway. When he made that stupid comment about bringing you to bed in high school, you were genuinely hurt, but you remember fantasizing about it regardless. You tolerated the torment he bestowed upon you, because you so badly wanted, and needed, his affection.   
This was not just some man you used to be friends with back in the day, this was, as you were convinced, the love of your life. At least at the time. You used to sneak each other notes in school, silly little love letters that made you giggle and blush. You used to pour your teenage heart out onto a piece of paper daily over him. You used to lie to your parents and sneak out to see each other, knowing they disapproved of him for his gruff ways and lack of religious upbringing. He gave you your first kiss, your first orgasm, your first real heartbreak. A small twinge hit your chest as you started to recall certain memories.   
That time you snuck out at night and met him at the lake, and he fingered you under the stars. God how you mewled and moaned, but he was so gentle with you, kissing you and leaving a mark on your neck you had to cover up with makeup to hide from your parents. You saw more stars than what was really in the sky that night. That time another guy in school was being mean to you and calling you a slut, and he punched the guy in the face, but he gladly took the detention to defend your honor. After your grandmother died, he snuck in through your window to sit with you through the night and hold you as you cried, but he was gone by morning to keep you both from getting in trouble. When you lost your innocence, how tender and sweet he had been with you, kissing the tears away and going slow to try and ease the pain, asking you if you were okay. It wasn’t at all like you had imagined it, it wasn’t anything like in the movies, but he cradled you after and told you he would always love you.   
And then there were all the other times you had given yourself to him. In his truck, in his bed, in your bed, in the woods, at a friend’s house, each time it got better and better. He took the time to learn your body and how to make your feel good. That was what was so addicting about it. Every time you got to feel his hot skin against yours, he managed to make your toes curl a little harder, or make you squeal a little louder. He worshipped your body in a way that made you feel dirty going to church, but it also made you beam from the inside out every other moment outside of that building where you were supposed to have vowed yourself to God. How could you keep denying yourself that amazing feeling? That intimacy with him, when nothing else mattered but the two of you?   
And then the hardest time of your life hit you like a ton of bricks. You were burdened with a secret, you and your family, and you needed James the most, to lean on, to turn to. But he was gone. He had been expelled from school after getting into a major fight with another boy, and he was shipped off to military school. He swore he would write you, but the letters never came. The phone never rang. Your parents told you it was for the best, but you cried, and cried, and you were broken into a million pieces over it. Of course, you had never told anyone that he had beaten the shit out of that other kid for trying to force himself onto you at a party. A party you were never supposed to even go to. You told your parents you got the bruises from gym class, but really, it was when he was trying to force your clothes off. You had somehow managed to fight him off of you, and you ran away crying, hearing his taunting and drunken words echoing in your head for days. “You’re a slut.” “Since you’re so willing to give it up…” “Come on little church girl, don’t be such a tease.” Your reputation had been sullied when a friend spilled that you had been having sex with James. You cried to him the next day, and while he didn’t tell you that he was going to beat the kid to a pulp, you had a feeling he was going to. The rumor was that it was either military school or jail.   
For years, you wondered if some of the blame for his disappearance fell onto your shoulders. You were so mad for so long about not hearing from him, but was it your fault? Was it even worth discussing? You had buried those thoughts and worries long ago, but now they were back from the grave and gripping you by the throat. Was this a chance of closure? Was that what he was hoping for? Was that the purpose of this whole meeting?   
You grabbed a paper towel and delicately dried the tears from your eyes, trying not to smudge your make up more than it already was. It was humiliating, crying in the bathroom over this man again. Hell, there was a ring on your finger, this was shameful. Your fiancé would have been beyond upset to know that you were spilling tears over an old lover who you lied about going to see. Everything about this was wrong, and it was time to end it. Once you were composed, you took some deep breaths to find your courage, and you finally left the bathroom and made your way back to the table. Your eyes stayed on the floor until you got closer to the table, rehearsing how to end the conversation and get out of there without making a scene. When your eyes finally left the floor and went to the table, you saw that the food was sitting on the table waiting for you, along with James who sat there with his food untouched and a serious look on his face.   
“Look, James,” you tried to start without even taking a seat, but he cut you off.   
“You’re about to leave, aren’t you?” he finally looked up at you, and the blue of his eyes swallowed you up. He was sad, maybe he was even scared.   
“I…I don’t think this was a good idea.” You tried to be honest without hurting him any further. Why did it matter, though?  
“Please just sit for another minute, let me explain.”  
“I think you’ve explained enough.”   
“No,” said sternly, “I haven’t.” and then he gestured to the spot in front of him, “Please.” You stood there and briefly considered his offer, and somehow, you ended up giving in. You cursed at yourself as you slipped into the booth again. James let out a big sigh and got comfortable in his seat. “I called you because there is no way I’m leaving this planet without fixing things between us.” His eyes hit you again, the urgency of his plans were now apparent. And there it was, proof that he was looking for closure, and it had you quiet. “I didn’t realize you were so hurt by…what happened between us,” he didn’t seem to know how to word what he wanted to say, “I know that your parents were very religious, and I get how that makes you feel guilty, but don’t forget, I was a virgin also.”  
“A girl losing her virginity is very different from a boy losing his, let’s be honest.” You mentioned.   
“I get that, that makes sense.” He nodded, “But, it’s still a big deal. I didn’t sleep with you to prove a point or hurt you, I did it because I thought we both wanted to, and I had feelings for you. Yeah, I was a teenager, and teenage guys usually want one thing, but I wanted more than that. You meant more to me than that.” He placed his hand on his chest, emphasizing his feelings. “And if you felt that way, why didn’t you say anything? Why did we keep doing it?”   
You thought for a moment, wanting to give a good answer. You kept doing it for many reasons. “Because I thought you genuinely cared about me.” You drew in a deep breath and sighed, “And I genuinely cared about you. And… it felt good?” you answered with more of a question than a definitive statement. You shrugged a shoulder, feeling exposed and like you were trying to pry the feelings out of your chest. You had dealt with many clients who were emotionally choked up, and you were able to get them to open up, but here you were struggling. James’s lips curved up into a tiny, crooked grin.   
“Yeah…we got pretty good at it.” There was a mischievous tone in his voice.   
“I guess…also… because it was rebellious. I was sick of being that good little girl who always went to church and dressed properly and never put a toe out of line. There was a lot of pressure being the pastor’s daughter, and I guess I kind of cracked under that pressure. You were a bad boy, a tough guy…I liked that.”   
The words spoken stayed heavy in the air between the two of you, and you both stayed silent for a moment, letting it all sink in.   
“Do you remember what I used to call you?” he suddenly brought up an unexpected question. How could you forget?   
“Angel.” You had to push the nickname past your lips.   
“You really were.” He tilted his head. “I knew you were too good for me. I didn’t deserve you. But that’s what made me love you even more.”   
Your heart sped up and you started to tingle. “You loved me?” you spoke as your mouth went dry.  
“Of course, I did. I told you that.” He stated with confidence.   
“Yeah but, we didn’t know what love was. We were kids.”  
“You can choose to believe that if you want, but from what I knew about love, I knew I loved you.” And then he looked down at the food on the table, “I didn’t want to start eating while you were in the bathroom, but I’m sure the food is getting cold.” He changed the subject.   
“Oh, sorry. You should have started without me.” You gave an automatic response, barely registering what he was talking about or the food that was cooling in front of you, you were still caught up on his previous statement.   
There was a weight that suddenly dropped onto your shoulders, and it crushed the air right out of your lungs. You forced another deep breath into your lungs before slowly exhaling, and you noticed your hands were starting to shake. Why were you suddenly feeling so fragile? Your eyes landed back onto him as he cut into his steak, taking a cube of meat and placing it into his mouth and chewing, keeping his gaze down and on his dinner, but he looked like he was concentrating. You knew that furrow of his brow meant something, there was no way he could go from such a deep conversation to simply enjoying his meal, right? An unsettled feeling was shrouding the both of you from continuing, but you didn’t know if you wanted to be the one to push the envelope further. James popped a single fry into his mouth and then reached for his beer.   
“Your food is going to be cold. Do you want it heated back up?” you knew right then and there that there was more on his mind then he was leading on. He took a long swig of his beer and you shook your head slightly.   
“Why didn’t you call me?” you meant for it to come out so much louder than it did, but it was barely loud enough for him to hear. You wondered if you had to repeat yourself, but when his eyes shot up, you knew he had heard you. “Why didn’t you visit?” your eyes started to water up again, your voice was weak and stunted. “If you loved me then why did you leave me like that?” The words hurt coming out. There was panic in his face as you sat waiting for an answer, still shaking your head slightly.   
“It’s complicated.”  
“It was my fault you went away,” was your bottom lip starting to tremble?   
“No, it wasn’t.” he quickly interrupted you, his eyes wide and shaking his head with more gusto than you were.   
“You blamed me, didn’t you?” the thought was suddenly very clear in your head, just as clear as the day you realized he wasn’t coming back to you. The tears started to form again, against your will.   
“No, no…” he dropped his fork and knife and reached out and grabbed your wrist, “Hey,” you stared him down, cutting him with your tearful gaze, “Hey…” he tried to stop you from your emotional spiraling, but your gut was already in knots and your chest was already burning with anxiety. “It wasn’t your fault. It was my own doing, okay? I was treading on thin ice even before I beat up that kid.”   
“Then why didn’t you call?” you challenged him more, a single tear made its way down your cheek, and you weren’t sure which was angering you more, the conversation or the fact that you were crying again.   
“I tried to!” his hand slid down on top of yours, but his other hand ran down his face in exasperation, he was getting tense. “I tried to visit you, but…!” he huffed as he placed his hand back up on his forehead, “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to make the situation any worse.”  
“What are you talking about? How could you have made the situation any worse?”  
“Not with us,” his eyes turned to daggers, “With your dad.”  
“My dad?” you cocked your head, spilling another tear. What was he talking about now? He had the most uneasy look on his face, and you saw his cheeks dimple as he clenched his jaw. You remembered that look. He was angry. “What about my dad?”  
“Did you get any of my letters?” he paused, and you froze, “I must have sent you a dozen letters the first month I was gone.”  
“What letters?” you whispered, a tear now slipping onto your lips.   
His nostrils flared as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Y/N, I wrote you trying to explain everything, I even went AWOL and had my friend drive me back home one night so I could try and see you and talk to you.” His grip tightened on your hand, “But your dad wouldn’t let me see you.”  
You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out, not even a squeak or a single sound. There as an entire hive of angry bees swarming inside of your chest and you felt your body going hot from head to toe. Was there a key part to the story that you were missing?  
Was all this heartache a misunderstanding? Were you not the only one with secrets in your family?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn more about the lies your father had been telling you all these years, and you start to wonder if you had known the truth, would it have changed your fate? An emotional goodbye with James Mace doesn’t end things between the two of you after he makes his intentions known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: adult themes, mentions of loss of virginity, mentions of assault.

A wave of nausea hit you, and you closed your mouth tight, clenching your teeth, just in case. Then you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat somehow remaining. James’s thumb stayed on your hand, lightly tracing across your skin, as if trying to comfort you. There was no way that everything had simply been a misunderstanding. There was no way your father could have kept a secret from you, not for all these years. But was it true?   
“I snuck off the base and got my friend to drive me all the way back home,” he started to explain to you in a soft voice, “To your place. I went right up to the door and was met by your father.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did, “He told me you weren’t home… that you were staying with your aunt who lived out of town, and that I wasn’t allowed to see you, speak to you or even write you.” He paused, “I started to fight with him…but then he got his shotgun out…”  
“What?” you almost jumped upon hearing this.   
“Yes, your dad pulled a shotgun out from behind the door.” He shook his head, “Almost like he was expecting me to show up. But then again, he had told me to stay away from you many times before,” he started to grin a little, “And I just didn’t listen. Maybe he wanted to make sure I got the message that time.”  
It couldn’t have been true. Could it? Your father did have an old shotgun, but he rarely took it out to do anything aside from clean it. You could count on one hand the number of times you had seen him with that shotgun in your entire life. At first, you couldn’t believe a man as godly as your father, the town’s pastor, would brandish a gun and point it at James. But he did despise James, he made that abundantly clear. He always told you that he was corrupt and a sinner, and that he didn’t deserve to even be in your presence. After you had confessed to your father that you were no longer a virgin, after your mother had seen the evidence in your underwear and started sobbing and panicking to the two of you over it, he immediately knew you had lost your innocence to James Mace. He screamed at you, berated you even, and made you feel like the dirtiest person on the planet. You cried your eyes out as he threw the bible at your feet where you stood and were pleading for forgiveness, he shouted so loudly that your ears were ringing. He demanded that you pray for forgiveness for your sin.   
What man will marry an impure woman? You have been tainted! My daughter will not be the town harlot! Pray that God saves your soul!   
The next day he dragged you to that river to baptize you, again, and you weren’t convinced that he wouldn’t hold you under that current for longer than he should to punish you further. Your parents treated you differently for weeks after, your mother barely spoke to you, your father invaded all of your privacy and made you read scripture every night before going to bed. And after about a month, it was never spoken of again, but you still felt shame. Clearly, not enough shame to keep you from doing it again. Your father had a temper, and he tended to mask it in his religious preaching, you knew that now as an adult, now that you had stepped away from the church, much to the disgust of your parents. You were still a believer, but far from the devout pastor’s daughter you used to be.   
You finally found words, “My father pulled a gun on you?”  
He nodded, “Told me if I ever showed up on his doorstep again, he would blow my head clean off my neck.”  
Yep, that sounded like your father.   
“I tried writing you,” James spoke up again, “But I had a feeling he was throwing away the letters. And then your number changed… and I didn’t know what to do. I figured…you had moved on.”   
Your feeling shifted from hurt to anger, maybe even rage. Your father lectured you about sin and secrets, and all this time he has hiding his own, justifying them even.   
“Were you?” James suddenly spoke up again.   
“Was I, what?” you were too caught up in your anger to understand his question.   
“With your aunt?”  
“Yes,” you sighed, “I moved in with her for about a year, shortly after you left.” You were being truthful.  
“Why?” he pressed further.   
That was a question you were not going to answer truthfully. You were far from ready to.   
“I just…” you stopped to swallow, stalling to think of a plausible excuse, “I needed to get away from that town for a bit. Especially after what happened,” you paused, “With that guy and everything.” You lied.   
“I always wondered if your parents blamed you for that guy putting his hands on you.” He spoke gently and continued to rub his thumb along the back of your hand, “I never understood religion. I just… I don’t get how you can blame the victim in those situations.”  
“I shouldn’t have put myself out there like that.” You glazed over and recited the line your parents had always used.   
“No,” James’s voice was shockingly stern, “That wasn’t your fault. You were the victim. He should have known better.”  
“Not according to what my father says.” You sounded almost robotic.   
“But you’re not your father.” His tone shocked you out of your cold and automated responses, and you looked at his face, taking in the softness he was giving you, “Angel…that was not your fault.”   
He used your nickname. The one only he called you by. Your heart fluttered, and a warm feeling started to grow in the pit of your stomach. How long had it been since you heard him call you that? Your father robbed you of hearing him call you that all these years, and you didn’t even know it. James rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand some more before speaking again, interrupting your own inner dialogue of racing thoughts.   
“I knew how much your father’s approval meant to you. I didn’t want to do anything further to screw that up.” And then his thumb slid further down your hand, until it rested on your engagement ring. It felt wrong, him touching it. He lifted your hand some to inspect it further, and you watched his eyes as they took in the one and a half carat diamond. You loved that ring, it was lavish compared to most of the other rings you had seen, a statement of how much your fiancé adored you, and how well off the two of you would be. People drooled over your ring, they would snatch your hand up and gasp and gush about it. But now, it felt foreign on your finger. “It’s a very pretty ring.” He finally spoke about it.   
“Thanks.” You weren’t sure how to respond.   
“I always thought I would get you a ring.” His statement hit you like a train, and your eyes went as wide as dinner plates. “I mean, I know I probably couldn’t get you something as nice as this but…” his voice trailed off. He let your hand slip from his, and you gently pulled it back with a shaky arm. Your limbs felt weak after hearing him say he thought he would have proposed. You had always wondered the same yourself. At one point, you tried to make the argument to your mother that sleeping with him wasn’t the worst thing in the world because you had thought he was the one. And you did. But things just didn’t play out that way. Would they have without your father getting involved the way he did?  
Where did that leave you and Doug?   
“We should eat.” James interrupted you thought process. He went back to his steak and you finally found the sense to start cutting into your food.   
For a few minutes, the two of you were quiet, just getting to the task of eating your food. You tried not to watch him eat, but it was difficult to just keep your eyes down the entire time. You drank in his form, his hands and how thick they were, his pink lips, his strong jawline, his cheeks, his eyes, everything. It was the strangest feeling, having him so close but feeling like he was so far. And now you were second guessing everything. What if he hadn’t been sent away? What if your father hadn’t kept him from contacting you again? What if you hadn’t met Doug? Did your feelings for Doug suddenly change now that the story did?   
That wouldn’t be fair to him.  
Was everything that happened fair to James? Was it fair to you?  
“Do you remember the time we took a rowboat out on the lake, and we started making out,” James started as he held some of his food in his cheek, “And we didn’t notice that one of the oars slipped out?” and you both started chuckling over the memory. James wiped his mouth with his napkin and swallowed before continuing, “I jumped out of the boat to try and retrieve it, but when you tried to help me back in,”  
“We flipped the whole thing and we were both in the lake.” You finished his sentence and you both broke out into laughter. You kept your hand over your mouth, trying to be polite but it was hard to keep from laughing loudly. James didn’t bother hiding his laughter. When you looked up and saw the amusement and the joy in his face, it warmed you, and you found yourself laughing without a qualm as well. It felt good to laugh, it felt even better to be laughing with him.  
Time passed faster than you could believe. Even after finishing your food, the two of you sat and talked for some time. You talked about all of your memories together, big and small, old friends, old enemies, your lives as teenagers and about the growing pains of becoming the adults the two of you were today. At some point, you even decided to unwind and order a glass of white wine, which turned into two glasses. Before you knew it, it was after nine o’clock and the place was getting ready to close. The two of you sat there and watched as the place emptied and waiters and waitresses started cleaning up. The thought of leaving that booth, and leaving him, was almost unbearable. You had just got him back, you had your friend back, and now it was time to leave. Suddenly, nothing else mattered but the two of you sitting there in that spot, in your own little universe. In the back of your mind, you felt guilty and sad for Doug, knowing that he had likely called your phone ten times, and you hadn’t bothered to even look. He wasn’t the one in front of you right now.   
“I suppose,” James spoke and then paused, “we should probably get going.” You nodded and reached for your purse to grab your wallet. “No, it’s on me.” James leaned to one side and pulled his wallet out of his pocket, and you froze.   
“I can pay for myself.” You said the typical reply of betrothed woman. Then again, a promised woman wouldn’t have met an old flame at a restaurant.   
“No, no, I asked you to meet me here.” James quickly retorted and pulled out a wad of cash, enough to cover both of your meals and drinks, and a nice tip. Your mouth went dry. You didn’t want this to come off like a date. Right? “And you drove all that way, it’s the least I can do.” He added after a second.   
You both slid out of the booth and pulled your coats on, and then you made your way to the exit, your feet dragging some. It was funny how you were so hesitant to go into the restaurant in the first place, and how you seemed to move in slow motion. Now you were feeling the same way about leaving. James placed his hand on the small of your back, escorting you out. You stiffened some at the feeling of his hand on you, and the warmth from his hand seeped through your coat. Maybe his hand shouldn’t have been there, but you weren’t about to tell him to remove it.   
It struck you that, perhaps, all the time in your life, in the era following his disappearance, you had put on a face that was not your own. The face you wore reflected life’s tough lessons, the influence of your parents, the drive to be a successful career woman, the face of someone who was marrying within their own class and expected nothing less. But James Mace was not less. When was the last time you laughed so freely, or felt so deeply? It if was an emotion that didn’t seem useful at the time, you didn’t honor it. James was always able to pull all of those emotions out of you, rather than expecting you to stay in line or on an even note. As a psychologist, you were suddenly disappointed in yourself. You had denied yourself closure to the point of holding your breath for years. Now, it finally felt like you could take a deep, cleansing breath in, and fill your lungs completely. Yes, it hurt a bit, yes it made your eyes swell with tears, but it was freeing.   
When the cold air hit you, you immediately shivered, and James’s hand slid to your side, pulling you closer to him as he put his arm around you, trying to help you brace for the chill. The two of you walked towards your car, and James made some silly comment about you driving a nicer car than he did. You turned to him after pushing the little button on your key fab, starting your car and letting it warm up. This was one of the moments in life where it felt like your feet were stuck in cement, like you would remain still forever, but time would not be on your side. You stared at him, and he stared back at you. You knew in your heart that this was going to be a painful moment.   
“Well…” you tried to start a sentence, not even really sure of what you were trying to say.   
“Well,” he echoed, pressing his lips into a thin line, but his eyes sparkled at you. The thought whispered into the back of your mind…  
Tell him…  
Suddenly there was a deep pit in your stomach, and it churned painfully. Should you?  
“It was great seeing you.” James broke the silence, and he spoke so softly that it was hard to hear him over the pounding of your heart in your own ears. “Thank you for coming out and…talking about all of those things with me.”   
You hesitated. “I’m glad we did.” The cloud of vapor danced in front of your face as your spoke. “It’s good to have closure.” And he nodded.   
“Yeah.” He clearly didn’t know what to say. Or he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to. But then he got bold. “I knew I couldn’t leave without seeing you one last time.”  
One last time, he said. The statement made your mouth go dry, and your heart sank. You looked up at the sky, seeing the stars so clearly. It was a move to avoid letting your eyes go teary again, and to avoid letting him see the sadness in your face. He looked up as well. Suddenly, looking at the sky felt different, it now meant so much more.   
“You’re going to be up there soon.” You changed the subject, stating a fact you both knew. There was a long moment of silence. “You’re about to save mankind.” You made an even heavier statement, but it was true. He still didn’t answer. “I guess that makes you a hero.”   
“That might be better than being a dentist.” He joked. But this was no joke, he was comparing himself to Doug, your fiancé. You saw this coming.   
“He’s an orthodontist.” You scoffed, still looking up at the stars. “And in a way, you’re going up there to save him too.” You politely tried to let him know that he was pushing a boundary.   
“But mostly you.” His words hit you, hard. Your head snapped back down to face him, and you saw his gaze drift back down from the sky to give you a sly look, along with a tiny, crooked smile. You gulped.   
“James,” you spoke his name in almost a whisper, if it weren’t for the cloud of vapor from your lips, he might not have known you spoke at all.   
“Are you really going to marry him?” his question shocked you, but only on the surface.   
You stared at each other.   
“Do you love him?” he questioned more. His expression now changed to one of hopelessness.   
More silence.   
“James… you can’t ask me to wait for you.” You finally pushed the words out, each one weighing more than the last.   
“Not even if I told you I was doing this for you?”  
“Don’t.” you sharply stopped him from continuing. “Don’t you put this on my shoulders.” You pursed your lips together, fighting back tears. “Please. Don’t make me carry that burden.” You blinked a few times, trying to blink away the wetness that was coming to your eyes. His eyes dug into you like daggers, and he swallowed and clenched his jaw.   
“Will we ever see each other again?” he asked in a much softer voice.   
You eagerly nodded, sniffling. “You come back here in one piece, okay?”  
“I’ll try my best.”  
A tear escaped your left eye, but you let it go. You nodded more, perhaps convincing the two of you that there was no risk, and that he definitely would be coming back. Again, the little voice rang in the back of you head. Tell him. But you refused again. You held out your arms, asking him for a hug, because you wanted nothing more than to be close to him one last time. He obliged, stepping into you and wrapping you in his arms. The embrace was warm, and it engulfed you, and then it lingered. You couldn’t remember the last time someone held you like that, so tight and so close. You weren’t sure if you were comforting him, or if he was comforting you, but you were sure you didn’t want to let him go. His hand slid up and down your back, and you tucked your face into his shoulder, he rocked you steadily, and then you broke. Your lip trembled as a small sob escaped you, and you tried to swallow it back. You stepped back from him, letting more tears fall, expecting the embrace to end, but instead his hands found their way to your face. He held you gently, looking you dead in the eye with a small smile. His thumbs caressed your cheeks and wiped your tears away. He leaned in and put his forehead to yours, and you closed your eyes, silently pleading that he wouldn’t set you ablaze with a kiss, but begging that he would.  
Your breath danced between the two of you, and you could feel him hesitating. Instead of doing what both of you were thinking, he leaned to the side and gently placed a warm kiss on your upper cheek. He stepped back from you and you looked at him, disappointed but at the same time grateful that he didn’t push your limits. He was always good at breaking those boundaries, and if he had kissed you, Doug be damned, you would have welcomed it, knowing it as wrong. “You take care of yourself.” He finally found something to say, and you could only nod. His hands slipped away from your face and he stepped back, allowing you to walk towards your car. That heat between you disappeared and you hated how cold you suddenly felt.   
You took a step backwards, towards your car, still looking at him, not wanting to lose the sight. But you knew it was time. With a heavy heart, you turned and made your way to the other side of the car, getting into the driver seat and closing the door. It was hot in the car, but the chill stayed in your veins, goosebumps sticking to your skin. You looked out the window at him one last time, and you saw him wave. You waved back, holding it together, until you put your car in drive and reluctantly left the curb. Your eyes found their way to the rearview mirror, and you saw him still standing there in the cold, getting smaller in the distance. The bubbling turmoil in your chest finally came out in one giant gasp, followed by a heavy sob, but you put your eyes back onto the road ahead of you, the dark void with white undertones around you taking you further away from him.   
When you got to your destination, a small motel just ten minutes away, you tried your best to pull yourself together while sitting in the car before going in and getting a room. Your eyes were puffy with tears and emotion, but you made your way into the office despite it to retrieve the key you had reserved. The room was small, outdated, but warm. Your phone had vibrated countless times, and when you finally saw it, you noticed the seven missed calls and the five text messages from your fiancé. It was funny how he didn’t seem to exist that evening. You called him back, trying to sound as monotone as possible, telling him you were caught up talking to other psychologists about new theories and upcoming treatments, and that you had just lost track of time. He accepted the excuse without any issue and tried to make conversation, but you were feeling sick knowing you had lied to him. When he couldn’t get a decent conversation out of you, you simply told him you were too tired and that you wanted to go to bed, and he gave in.   
But there was no way you could sleep. Not with so much on your mind, weighing you down. You opted to take a hot shower, trying to wash away all of the angst and doubt that was sitting on your chest. After your shower, you sat on the bed in your robe with a book in your hands, but you barely read it. After staring at the same page for more than fifteen minutes, you gave up, and just started staring at your ring, thinking about everything it meant. And everything it didn’t. You wondered if you should take it off.   
A knock on the door shook you from your thoughts and made you jump a bit. Who would be knocking on your door so late at night? And at a motel? You got up from your spot on the bed, tossing your book onto the nightstand and tightening the knot on your robe as you approached the door. Maybe it was the owner asking you to move your car, or asking if everything was alright. Maybe it was someone in another room who had run out of toilet paper or something, but you weren’t at all expecting the sight you would see. Upon opening the door, your knees almost gave out when you saw James Mace on the other side.   
“James?” you were shocked to see his face staring back at you, and his eyes slightly red, with wet lashes. “How…how did you find me?” you questioned him. But he didn’t speak. Instead, he just stepped inside, into your space. You backed up a couple steps, and he took the liberty of closing the door behind himself. “A-are you okay?” you stammered. Did he need a place to stay?   
He didn’t say a word, and he didn’t have to. He reached for you, first gripping your arms, and then moving his hands up to your face again, the chill on his skin made you shiver. His lips fell onto yours with such confidence that it caught you off guard. You both knew you weren’t going to deny his kiss, you didn’t even flinch, or attempt to push him away. The contrast of the coldness on his hands and the heat on your lips made you dizzy, and you kept your eyes closed to enjoy the feeling of the room spinning around you. When he finally pulled his lips from yours, there as no air left in your lungs. The feeling was all too familiar, it was like you had stepped back into time, like there had been no lost time between the two of you. You opened your eyes and looked at him, and he looked back at you.   
He was one month away from leaving Earth. You were six months away from getting married.   
But none of that mattered at that moment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend one last night with James Mace, knowing it's wrong, but knowing it would tear you up to pass up on one night of passion with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: language, smut, NSWF, sexual content, adultery

“James,” his name slipped from your lips, yet again. “You know…you know I can’t do this.” You said breathlessly. 

“Do you love him?” he asked you again, still standing in your space with his hands on your face. You couldn’t find the words, or even the answer. “Do you?”

“I-I…I don’t know how to answer that.” His eyes searched yours, and you knew at that moment he was looking deeper into you than you could ever search into yourself. He knew you; he knew you well. Did that mean he knew the answer?

“If your father hadn’t kept us apart,” he paused, “Would you be with him?” his thumb traced along your cheek, “Or would you still be with me?”

“I can’t answer that.” You spit out quickly, “How can you ask me to answer that?” he didn’t answer. You directed a question back at him, “If I wasn’t getting married to him, and if we were still together…would you still be going?” you weren’t sure why you needed to know. 

“Yes.” It took him only a second to answer. “I have to do this.”

“So, you’d leave me either way?” you whispered to him as you tried to step out of his reach. He eyed you closely, seeing the disappointment in yours. “I’m glad one of us has all the answers.”

“You’d still be with me.” James made the definitive statement, perhaps the one you knew was right. “You don’t love him, at least not like you loved me.” He would have sounded cocky if he hadn’t been sounding so desperate. 

“How can you possibly know that?” your words were laced with vinegar; how dare he make these decisions for you. Just like old times. 

“Because I know you.” he argued back. 

“I’ve changed! I’m not the same girl I was back then!” you raised your voice at him. You weren’t even sure why. James marched forward, stepping back into your space, and you took two steps back, trying to leave some distance between the two of you. You knew if he got his hands on you again, that would be it, there would be no defenses left. Your back hit the wall, unexpectedly, and it caused you to hold your breath. He invaded your senses, coming close enough to feel his body against yours, and he looked down into your eyes with such fierceness, you thought it would claim your soul. Hadn’t he already done that? 

“Have you?” he questioned you, with his voice so low you felt it in your chest. You suddenly weren’t so sure. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your fiancé’s image in the back of your mind, but it was growing cloudier by the minute. James slipped his hand to the back of your head, into your wet hair, and pulled your face into his. His lips met yours halfway, and you moaned against his lips, not in protest, but from the scorching heat running through your body. In the depths of your foggy brain, you could hear the hallelujah chorus singing. You could have tried to blame it on the two glasses of wine, but you knew that would be a lie. You weren’t drunk on wine; you were drunk on the idea of James Mace plucking each and every nerve and playing your body like an instrument again.  
He stopped kissing you but spoke onto your lips, “Have you changed that much?” James other hand found its way past the confines of your robe, and he traced his cold finger in a light circle around your navel. The chill, and the sensual sensation of his act alone, made you gasp, giving him access to deepen the kiss. The feeling of his hot tongue caressing yours, and his finger dancing along your sensitive skin, had you melting against him. His grip on the back of your head kept you from moving, but you weren’t sure if it would be enough to keep your knees from giving out. He pulled his mouth from yours, keeping your bottom lip between his for a moment before speaking to you again. “I bet all those sweet spots are the same.” 

Damn you hated him at that moment, but your hands still fell forward and gripped onto his muscled arms for balance. When was the last time someone had kissed you like that? Ten years plus- because nobody kissed you the way he did. His finger stopped circling your navel and his other hand slipped from your hair, both meeting at the knot in your robe. You didn’t even bother to try and stop him as he undid the knot and opened the front of your robe, exposing your bare skin to him. He stepped back from you, holding the robe open, and he inspected you. You saw how his eyes scanned you, your neck, your breasts, your stomach, the part between your legs that was growing slicker by the minute. His lips turned up into a wicked smile, “You’re still as beautiful as ever, Angel.” His sultry voice hit your ears, and you had to keep yourself from trembling. “That hasn’t changed.” 

His large hands shoved the fabric down your arms, and it pooled at your feet, exposing all of you to him. You were now standing naked in front of a man other than your fiancé, but this was the man who had seen you naked first. It was a conflicting feeling, one that didn’t outweigh the needing feeling you were getting when you saw the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. You wanted this to happen. James’s hands were back on you, slipping down your sides and down under your ass, where he gripped both cheeks and squeezed. You wrapped your arms around his neck for balance as he swiftly lifted you up off of your feet, spreading your legs around his waist. Hadn’t he done this exact move on you before? He carried you over to the bed in the middle of the room while you claimed his lips again. You were under a spell, needing to taste his lips more than you needed air. You hadn’t felt this alive, or this hot and bothered, since you were a teenager. He still had that effect on you. You nibbled on his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before letting it snap back to place, and he hissed. “You always knew how to tease me.” He growled to you before setting your down on the bed, and you bounced a little from the springs under you. He looked down at you with a hunger that made your stomach knot. “But I always knew how to make you squeal.” 

He lifted his shirt over his head, showing off his muscled torso. You immediately noticed how his physique had changed, years in the military and keeping fit for his trip to space had seen to that. Your eyes took him in greedily, seeing his abs, the V that was etched into his flesh below them, and his pecs, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning. It wasn’t that Doug wasn’t a good-looking guy, but damn if that body wasn’t calling to you, demanding you to mount it and ride it until you were wrecked. “Like what you see, baby?” he taunted you as he started to undo his belt. You felt yourself blush, but you couldn’t deny that he was right. He stripped down to his boxers, the tent being very obvious now, but he left them on. Instead of pulling them off, he gripped your ankles and lifted them up, forcing you to lay back onto the comforter. “Let’s see if this still drives you crazy.” He challenged you, and you knew what he was about to do. 

James knew you better than to get right to business, he knew your body better than that. That was something Doug still hadn’t fully grasped yet. He lifted one leg up while letting the other fall, and he placed his lips on your ankle, giving you a light kiss. His lips drifted along your skin as they traveled up your leg, and he planted another kiss a couple inches higher on the inside of your calf. The fingers of his other hand were busy working ministrations on your inner thigh. His light kisses continued on an ascent towards your thighs, and you sighed in delight, letting your head fall back, taking in the feeling. When his mouth was inches from your womanhood, you started to feel the prickle of panic in your gut. No matter how much you were enjoying his work, this was wrong. Just like your father always drilled into you. He must have sensed this, because his lips then shifted to your other thigh, and he started kissing along your unattended skin. He was giving you a chance to push him away. Would you? It wasn’t like he had never had his face buried between your legs before. And Doug had mentioned that he didn’t particularly enjoy the act. You stiffened. 

“What’s wrong?” James spoke up from out of sight, but his kisses continued. 

“It’s been a while.” You breathed out, telling him everything with only a few words. You watched as his head raised into you line of vision.

“Does Doug not do this for you?” he caught on right away. You didn’t answer. “Do you want me to stop?” he gave you the option. You thought for a moment, taking in everything you now knew. 

“No.” you whispered to him. You watched as his lips twisted up into a smirk, and then he dipped his head back down close to your valley. The feeling of his lips pressing against your mound and giving you a kiss incited a small moan from your lips. 

“Doug doesn’t know what he’s missing.” His words hit your ear and ignited the flame. You wanted it, bad. He drew his tongue up along your folds and you hummed in approval. “I always enjoyed doing this for you.” And you had always enjoyed receiving it. He didn’t waste any time finding your clit and swirling the tip of his tongue in tiny circles around it. You squeezed your eyes shut and mewled at the sensation, resisting the urge to lift your hips off of the bed. His tongue worked magic on you, flicking and swirling your bud before dipping into your moist center. He continued with the pattern, drawing moans and whimpers from you. And when he slowly pushed a finger into you, you almost completely forgot about your fiancé. “Damn, you’re still tight, baby.” He spoke to you with his face still between your thighs, “Does he not take care of you enough?” he jested as he worked his finger upward, finding that special spot, and sending your heart into a fluttering fit. You gripped at the bedspread beneath you as your hips involuntarily bucked up under his mouth. 

“Oh God.” You moaned. He worked that spot a little harder, sending heat and electricity through your veins. “Oh God, right there.” You begged him to continue. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you beg with their fingers. His tongue returned, swirling around your tingling bud and making your eyes roll back in your head. If having him between your thighs was a sin, then you were a happy sinner. “Don’t stop.” You begged him more, your voice going up an octave. You were very familiar with this feeling, that feeling of being so close to the edge, and looking over the other side before dropping off. You started to sweat and squirm under his unrelenting mouth. “Oh God, I’m gonna come.” You whined to him, and it spurred him on more. He wrapped his arm around your thigh, keeping you open for him as he latched onto your clit, all the while his finger kept stroking that magical spot. You knew you were as good as done, so what was the harm in giving into it? You arched your back and dug your nails into the comforter as he sent you cresting over the first wave of pleasure, and your channel clamped down around his finger before spasming around it. “Oh God, James!” you drew out his name in one long moan, thanking him while you came apart. Your thighs twitched and threatened to close around him. When his lips finally left your excited bundle of nerves, you were a quivering mess. His finger stayed inside of you, and he placed his thumb over your clit and applied pressure, making you ride out the final waves even longer, feeling your continued fluttering around his digit. He kissed up your body as you tried to catch your breath, still pulling that last bit of your orgasm from you. Damn he was just as skilled as ever. The next thing you knew, his lips were wrapped around your right nipple and a new kind of pleasure was dancing along your body. 

“I missed hearing you say my name like that.” He pulled his lips from your nipple long enough to speak before moving to the other one. His breath danced along your already heated skin and your eyes slid closed again, taking it all in. Your hands found their way up his body, caressing his skin and muscles as they slid over him delicately. You had to take all of him in. 

“Do I get to return the favor?” you breathed to him as your hand ran through his hair. He ceased sucking on your nipple, but he gave it a slight nip before he lifted his head, making you giggle and squirm more. He looked you in the eyes as he finally withdrew his finger from your wet hole and a grin spread across his lips, his face was full of mischief. 

“Not such an angel, are you?” he growled as he rolled off of you and laid back onto the bed. You rolled over onto your side as he gripped his boxers and shoved them down his hips. His hard cock immediately sprung free, and you froze in place and stared. Were you really about to do this? “I wonder if you got better about using those teeth.” He teased you with a big grin as he put his hands behind his head, letting his erection bob in all its glory. Your eyes went wide and you glanced down at him, expressing shock from his audacity, and he simply winked in return. 

You would wipe that shit eating grin from his face, and you would do so without using a single word. Hell, you had more experience now, maybe it was time for him to find out. You boldly gripped his stiff member and pumped your fist up and down it a couple times. The weight and heat of it felt heavy in your hand, and the veins and pink head leaking with precum had your mouth practically watering. When you finally leaned in and put your tongue to his tip, you heard him let out a heavy sigh. Your tongue swirled around him for a moment before you wrapped your lips around him and your head sunk down onto him, taking as much of his length into your mouth as you could. He let out another deep sigh, and one of his hands slipped into your hair, gathering it from in front of your face and gently holding it on top of your head. You bobbed your head faster, tasting the saltiness on the back of your tongue while you rolled your eyes up to his face. His eyes were on you, half lidded but still gazing down at you, and you knew by the expression on his face that you were doing a good job. The sounds coming from your mouth sucking on him starting to dance into the room, and you moaned on his skin. There was a triumphant feeling creeping up on you as you sucked up and down his cock, seeing and hearing how much you were making him enjoy himself. Teeth? He was gritting his as you were giving him warm, wet velvet pleasure. 

With a deep groan, he used your hair to pull your mouth off of him. Your lips and the side of your mouth were wet from your expert level work. You licked your lips and looked up at him, letting a small smile cross your lips. “What was that about teeth?” you taunted him. He chuckled and coaxed you up closer to his face, and you climbed up towards him until your nose was over his. His hand never left your hair, and he used that hand to pull your lips down onto his. The kiss started off tender, lips pressing together and smiles still lingering. Then it started to heat up, tongues and teeth clashing, sharing the taste of each other on your lips, breath bouncing off of each other and moaning. You were completely intoxicated by him, and he was under your spell. 

James rolled over, pushing you down onto your back and climbing over you, lips never parting from yours. You knew what was coming, and you welcomed it. His hard member was pressing up against your womanhood, and you starting grinding your hips upward against him. He moaned onto you as his lips trailed from yours, down your chin, along your jaw, down your neck, where he nipped and sucked on your sweet spot. Yes, he still knew where your sweet spot was, and he was working magic on it. It was your turn to moan, feeling the rush of heat rushing through your body. The kisses migrated to your shoulder, and then down onto your chest as he took his time to leave loving pecks on every inch he would manage. You squirmed under him, rubbing your thighs together, desperately looking for some friction to quench the need growing inside you. But then, he pulled away from you and looked you in your eyes. His pause caused you to hold your breath, your eyes searching his, trying to read what was going on in his mind.

“We don’t have to do this.” His words struck you. How could he put on the breaks now? After the both of you were hot and bothered and primed for what was supposed to come next. “I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret.” His eyes sparkled at you, and it tugged at your heart strings. Different thoughts started racing through the back of your mind.

 _What about Doug?_

_James is leaving soon…_

_Nobody has to know…_

_Can you live with yourself if you go through with it?_

_It’s going to be amazing. It always has been, can you really tell him to leave now? You know you want it._

_He was your first love…_

_He still doesn’t know your secret…_

You thought for a while, assessing the situation, remembering all of the facts, but not being able to think of anything beyond the throbbing need and wetness between your legs. That, and the fact that he was leaving you. In a month, he would be traveling through space, millions of miles away, saving mankind. You didn’t want him to go, and if he had to, which he did, you at least wanted a piece of him right now. You knew you were about to cross a major line, but what choice would you regret more? Even though it may have been wrong, you knew the answer. Your hand found its way to the back of his neck, and you pulled him back down onto your lips to give him a searing kiss. 

As you kept kissing, he shifted his hips and positioned himself between your legs. You remembered this feeling well, him resting against your most intimate parts, and the baited breath and feelings as you waited to feel that connection with him. He lined himself up, preparing to push into you, and you gripped onto his arms with anticipation. He stopped kissing you and looked down at your face with your noses touching, and another small smile grew between the two of you. You felt him putting pressure at your opening, and when he started to slip into you, you drew in a quick breath and held it. As he pushed further into you, stretching you inch by inch, you let out that breath in a low moan, feeling the slight sting of him penetrating you with more girth than you had been used to. You were plenty ready for him, slick and quivering, but it had been a while. He was tender, watching your face as your eyes fluttered shut when the head of his dick nudged your cervix. “Are you okay?” he breathed to you.

Just like the first time.

“Yeah…” you breathed back to him. 

He got down on his elbows and gently placed his weight on top of you, sealing that connection with him even further. You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him close, as your lips found his again. This was about more than sex, this was about the intimacy you used to have with this man, this was about all the lost time. His hips started to grind against yours, testing the limits, tenderly priming you more. It wasn’t long before he pulled his hips away, slipping from you, and then pushed back into you until his hips met yours again. A small sound escaped you upon his firth thrust, silenced some by his mouth still being on yours. He lifted his head some, wanting to watch your face, the expressions and the emotions you were showing him, as he repeated his actions, this time with a little more force. All sense of time seemed to melt away, and the next thing you knew, the bed was lightly rocking under the two of you, the old springs creaking and telling a story. You were too caught up to think about adding another secret to your soul, but that was something you would deal with later.

“I missed you, Angel.” His voice filled your ears, already sounding breathless as he pumped into you. 

“I missed you too.” You spoke your truth back to him. 

He picked up the pace, and you gripped onto him harder as a moan slipped from you that could have made you blush. How could you keep quiet when it felt so good? You weren’t teenagers trying to hide your actions anymore, you could let yourself be free. You moaned again, loving the drag and push of his member sliding in and out of you. You were so wet you swore you could hear the evidence of it. The feeling of the collision from his body against your already sensitive clit sent you spiraling even further. You kissed his cheek, his neck, his shoulder, just trying to keep him on your lips and express to him how good it felt, in case he didn’t know. The sensation of him plunging into you was coiling a spring deep inside your gut, your walls were clenching around him tighter and you started to lose your breath. It felt too soon to be that close, but he always knew how to please you. Your nails started digging into his skin, and he groaned in reply. A thin layer of sweat started to form between the two of you, the temp of both of your bodies rising as the pleasure did. 

“Oh my God…” you mewled as the feeling continued to grow. Your legs fell wider around him, going weak and limp. More praise left your lips while your eyes started to roll back. Did Doug ever make you feel this good? “Shit…” you breathed, and you would have been embarrassed to have cursed any other time. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he teased you, his voice shaking from the movement of your bodies. “Been waiting forever to feel you like this again.” his words were adding gasoline to the flame, and all you could do was moan in response. He reached down and hooked his arm under one of your legs, pulling it up and opening you up even more, changing the angle of his thrusts. This was new, and thrilling. This was almost deadly. You threw you head back against the pillow and moaned louder. 

“Oh God, that’s good!” you called out to him. Apparently, he had learned some new tricks too. And lucky you, you were getting to experience an even more skilled James Mace. He pulled his torso away from yours, using one hand to keep your leg bent and the other at your hip to hold you in place, but his thrusts never ceased. 

“Does he make you feel this good?” he questioned you, but you knew he was more likely teasing you more, shaming your fiancé and singing his own praise. Always such a cocky son of a bitch, but he was turning you into a puddle, he had every right to be cocky. “You know nobody can do this to you better than I can.” 

“Don’t stop.” You begged him. God you sounded pathetic, but you needed this more than anything. “Please…”. 

“You gonna come for me? You always do.” He spurred you on more. That spring was going tighter and tighter, and composure you had left was quickly leaving you. Your toes curled and you gripped onto his wrist against your body, the other taking hold of the pillow. The heat coursing through your body was even worse than before. You were almost there. You gasped and groaned, hiccupped and moaned as your body started to surrender. Your climax was growing more and more as you felt your muscles tightening. His thumb returned to your clit, swirling in a small circle and making your hips buck. “Come for me, Angel.” The sound of the name only he called you by slipping from his sweet lips, commanding you to give in, sent you over the edge. 

Your body started to spasm, everything tightening, your toes curled and your eyes screwed shut as your inner muscles gripped onto him. A loud cry ripped through the room, followed by a squeal, and then his name, chanted like a prayer, over and over again. You swear you were up amongst the stars, somewhere not on earth. While still in the height of your waves of pleasure, you heard him grunt over you and his hips stalled and stuttered as he caught up with you, finding his own climax and spilling into you. Your pulled air into your lungs the best you could as you found your senses again; your body was prickling with heat and slick. James eventually released your leg and slumped down over you, breathing heavily with a damp brow. 

It was magnificent. Doug be damned. 

Somehow through the haze, your brain started to work again. That euphoric feeling setting into your body as your thoughts slowly came back. A small smile grew across your lips as the endorphins started kicking in, and everything was fine. For that moment. It was when he pulled out of you, and you felt his spend dribbling out of your throbbing hole that the giddiness began to fade. This was just like old times, too much like old times. Not only had you slept with a man who was not your fiancé, you let the man finish inside of you. You were sure there was no cordial way about it, that was a hefty sin, one you would now carry with you for some time, if not forever. Your father’s voice rang in your head from somewhere off in the distance, chastising you. This was like déjà vu. Had you learned nothing? 

Just as you heart began to quicken with guilt, you felt James roll onto his side and wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his body and cradling you. He kissed you, and you absent mindedly kissed him back. He was unaware of the racing thoughts inside your head. Or was he. “Are you still with me?” he softly asked you. 

“I’m here.” You replied, trying to shake those negative thoughts. 

He chuckled, “We still got it.” He somehow found the guts to try and be humorous in that moment. Perhaps because he knew where your mind was likely going. He stroked your hair ever so gently while lovingly looking into your eyes, and you looked back at him. You weren’t sure what to say, or what to share with him. There was so much you could have said, maybe too much to pick one single thing, “Hey,” he shook you from your thoughts once more, and your glazed over eyes took him in once again. The grin on his face slowly faded, and it made your heart drop. He searched your face, trying to read you like only he could. And then he spoke. “I love you.”

You went cold. And then blazing hot. Your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest, it was going so loudly that it rang in your ears. What do you say to that? How can you possibly respond to that? 

“You don’t have to say it back.” His hand slipped from your hair and onto your face, and he rubbed his thumb lightly against your cheek. You felt your eyes starting to well with tears for what had to be the umpteenth time that night. “I understand.” And then he sighed, “I just needed you to know that.” His voice was so soft. How could he tell you that with such little hesitation? “You don’t have to say it back,” he repeated himself. You instinctively reached out your fingers and lightly placed them on his lips, silencing him. He didn’t have to say anything else; you already knew it all. That was how the bond between the two of you had worked, and at the moment, that bond seemed to be back.

Of course, you were still keeping something from him. Your conscious rang in the back of your head yet again, nagging you. _Are you really going to let him leave this planet without telling him?_ Just as you thought that maybe, somehow, you had gained enough courage to tell him, James distracted you when he lightly kissed the tips of your fingers. His hand left your hair to hold yours, but not before bringing your palm up to his lips and gingerly kissing that as well. This man adored you. And yes, you adored him too. How could you go back to Doug after this? After feeling your heart come to life and glow so brightly for the first time in so long?

“I know what you’re thinking.” He interrupted you again with a whisper. Did he really? “I know I just complicated things. And I’m sorry. I’ll leave by morning,” he seemed to be accepting of the reality of situation, for at least that moment, “But can I just stay with you tonight? For old time’s sake.” The tone in his voice pulled at your heart strings. Of course, you weren’t about to send him away. You nodded before inching even closer to him, until your body was nestled up against his. You felt pacified and protected. You felt whole again. Which made it even easier for you to slip away into a deep sleep, the guilt could come later, but you were at peace in that moment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader makes a tough decision and faces the backlash from family. The Icarus II embarks on its journey to the sun to complete the mission, and the reader moves forward with plans to make things right. When tragedy strikes, and her heart is shattered, courage has to be found to mend the pieces of her broken life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a scene in the movie "Sunshine" where Mace fights Capa after not being able to send a message back home. That scene inspired this story. So, that scene plays into this chapter. Again, I own no rights to the film. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this last chapter.

The next morning sat heavily on your chest. You awoke to an empty bed, and an aching heart. He was gone, just like he had said, perhaps to let you go on and do with the rest of your life as he chose. But that seemed too simple. If this was a lifelong love affair, and it sure seemed to be that way to you, then that couldn’t have been goodbye. You sat in bed for some time, rubbing your forehead and trying to make some sort of move, some sort of definitive decision on what to do next. Hell, your ring was still in your ring finger, and your fiancé had already left you some text messages to catch up on. You were less concerned with answering him, and more concerned with mourning the loss you had set yourself up with. 

But then you found the note, sitting neatly on top of your suitcase. 

_I’ll be thinking of you every second I’m up there. Please know that this is not me leaving you again, I have to do this. And I know that you may still have to marry Doug. In case you change your mind, about anything, you know how to contact me. If you regret everything that happened yesterday, I understand that too. If that is the case, it would mean the world to me if I could see you one last time before the launch. Whatever you decide, I just want you to be happy. Love, James._

His number was written on the bottom of the paper. Every word read was like a dagger cutting away at you. What had you done? To Doug, to Mace, to yourself even. You cried for a long time, letting out the confusion, the sadness and the anger, and then you started the long drive home. Upon entering your house, your future husband gave you a hug and a kiss, and you went along with it, feeling empty inside. If only he knew that he was holding onto you after another man had made you squeal his name the night before, or that someone else had kissed your lips. You hid your guilt under a stoic form, hiding the note from James Mace in the bottom of your overnight bag. 

For weeks you kept your secret to yourself, but it was hard to stay focused. You went to work and tried to concentrate, but it was almost impossible. You tried to go about your life without James in the back of your mind and distracting you, but it seemed impossible. You thought of him while you got ready for work, while you ate all your meals, while you drove in your car, while you were alone, while you were with Doug, and you were waiting for him to take notice, but he didn’t seem to. Meanwhile, despite his lack of vigilance, you had become a ticking timebomb. The only thing Doug had seemed to notice was that you hadn’t been intimate with him since before you left. How could you be? 

Three days until the launch, it was all over the news, the story of the eight brave astronauts, engineers and scientists who were about to go up into space to save all of mankind. Whenever you saw James’s face displayed on the television screen, you felt a slight twinge in your chest. It was torture. But not as torturous as the day you went dress shopping with your mother and friend. They had both been ecstatic, prancing around like kids in a candy shop while grabbing random dresses for you to try on. You dragged your feet a bit, you tried to smile but it was difficult, you tried to find a dress that made you light up, but it just seemed so…hopeless. Your mother forced you to try on several dresses, at least seven before you lost count, and after hours of being stuffed into those dresses and being stripped out of them, you emerged in one final gown before your patience ran up.

You stood in front of that mirror, feeling the weight of the satin and layers of fabric under the skirt. You looked like a princess in that ballgown that was covered in gems and pearls. Your mother gasped and cried, blotting her eyes with tissues, and your friend soon joined her. They celebrated and gushed over you. “This is it! This is the dress! You look absolutely stunning! You have to get it!” your friend fussed around you, but you were practically oblivious. You stared into the mirror, feeling empty, not being able to hide the unhappiness in your face. You flinched when the consultant came up behind your and put a veil on you. All of the motion and voices around you seemed to fade into nothing. That dress was supposed to represent so much, but you didn’t see much when you looked at it. It was big and elaborate. 

White. Blindingly so. 

“Well, dear?” your mother approached you with her eyes full of tears. “Are you saying yes to the dress?” and then she saw your face, “Honey, smile! What’s wrong?”

You broke. 

“I’m not getting the dress.” You spoke so softly, so solemnly, that your mother took a step back. 

“What? Why not? It’s beautiful.” She sounded disappointed. 

“I don’t want the dress.” You stood firmly with your decision.

“Okay, well, we can keep looking. Maybe-“ she went to speak more but you cut her off.

“No, no more dresses. I’m not buying a dress.”

“But why?”

“Because I’m not marrying Doug.” You finally turned to her and told her what had been on your mind for weeks. It was such a weight off of your chest, and suddenly you could breathe again. What a relief it was to finally speak the thoughts that had been buzzing around your head. But your mother’s face showed anything but relief. First, her face dropped with disappointment, but then it contorted into a look of anger and disgust.

“Wh-what do you mean? You have to marry Doug!”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything!” you reminded her, “I’m not marrying him, Mom. I won’t.” you shook your head as you finished your statement. 

“Why?” she begged for an answer. But you didn’t give her one. You turned and walked away from her, feeling the weight of that dress causing resistance in your step, but you refused to let it slow you down. The confused consultant followed behind you, and nobody uttered a single word as you practically climbed your way out of that dress and ended the appointment. 

The rest of that day was a complete blur, and the day after that. So much happened in such a short amount of time. You drove to your house, the one you shared with Doug, and you packed your things with haste, not bothering to fold clothes or do follow any sort of plan, other than the one major plan: move out. Doug pulled blazing into the driveway, his brakes screeching and alerting you that he was home. Your mother must have called him. He rushed up the stairs and confronted you, begging to know what had happened. His sentiment matched that of your mother’s, sadness and then anger, with fits of rage as he tried to throw your belongings out of the suitcases. What could be said? You apologized to him, a number of times while keeping your composure, but you made the statement very clear. 

“I don’t love you. Not like I thought I did. Not enough to marry you.” 

“Is there someone else?!” Doug screamed at you with tears in his eyes. Your heart broke for him, it really did. But you were tired of your own heartache. 

“Yes.” You somberly gave him his answer. 

He eventually let you leave. He sat on the edge of the bed you used to share with him with his face in his hands. You knew how he was feeling, that feeling of the entire world leaving and becoming an empty shell of a person. You had experienced that before. You apologized to him again and left your ring on the nightstand. 

Your real fight was with your parents, and you knew it couldn’t be avoided. First you found a hotel and managed to shove all of your belongings in there for the time being, and the staff eyed you like you had lost your mind. Maybe you had. Then, you went to your parents’ house. Upon pulling into the driveway, your mother had already opened the door. Of course, she had been expecting you, after not returning any of her 30 missed calls, she was probably sitting by the window, waiting for you. It was impossible to mask the anger boiling under your skin, and when you marched into your old childhood house, you barely said hello to your mother, or your father, who was sitting in his favorite armchair in front of the television. 

Back in the day, you would have rather jumped out of plane than challenged your father, but as an adult, and after everything you had found out, some of that respect, and fear, had magically vanished. He was going to listen to what you had to say, and you were going to get answers. Your father briefly turned to you, glancing at you, and then back at the TV. You noticed he was watching the same news segment everybody was, the story of the eight heroic individuals who would be saving the world. 

“I need to speak with you.” You hissed at him as your mother rushed up behind you. Your father seemed ready for the argument, and you knew right away that he and your mother had likely been talking and coming up with their own ideas. 

“That isn’t how you should be addressing your father.” He countered.

“Oh, stop it! I don’t care!” you spit out, “Did you, or did you not, keep James from contacting me?” you threw the question at him right away. You watched as your father breathed in slowly, and then exhaled with a huff. “Yes or no?!” you yelled. 

“I did what was best for my daughter.” He remained calm. 

“You didn’t even give me a chance to make up my own mind!” you argued. 

“Make up your own mind?” he finally turned to look at you, “You were a child!”

“I was a young woman!”

“You were a naive and confused girl who was well on her way to becoming a whore!”

“I loved him!” you screeched, feeling your own spit collecting on your lip. You were red hot. 

“Love?” he scoffed, “You were addicted to the sin of it. Love wouldn’t have abandoned you- “

“He didn’t abandon me! You chased him away! You pulled a gun on him!” you shouted, interrupting him. Your father slowly got to his feet, and your upper lip twitched in disgust. 

“He contacted you, didn’t he?” he asked calmly. 

“What did you do with the letters he sent me?” your voice lowered to match his. Your father looked back at the TV, seeing James’ face flash on the screen, and you saw him grimace before looking back at you. “Answer me!”

“I did what I had to do to protect you!”

“You kept me hostage, and in fear! You chastised me and made me feel like a degenerate in my own home! Do you have any idea what that does to a person?!” you paused, and he allowed you to continue, “I hated myself! I feared everything, even my own damn emotions! If I had known half of what- “

“Did you talk to him?” he cut you off with a question of his own. 

“Yes.” You were unashamed of your answer. 

“Did you see him in person?”

“Yes.” You answered again, daring him to try to lecture you. 

“Honey…” your mother tried to interject, but you held your hand up at her, telling her to hold her tongue. 

“And is this why you suddenly won’t marry Doug?”

“I don’t love Doug.”

“Don’t you dare say you love _him_.” Your father’s voice grew very low. You put your shoulders back with pride. 

“I do.” You drew in a deep breath, “I always have. And you need to accept it.”

“I don’t need to accept anything.” A sarcastic grin grew on the old man’s face. 

“Yes, you do! I may be your daughter, but I’m not your child anymore. I’m an adult. I make the decisions that are best for my life. Not you. I’m tired of living my life to appease you.” And you threw a glance at your mother, “Both of you.” and then you hesitated again, "The man is saving the world and he's _still_ not good enough for you. That's tragic."

“Did you let him touch you?” your father pushed his boundaries. 

“George!” your mother tried to stop him from going there. 

“That’s none of your business.” You didn’t care if he knew, but you weren’t about to share that information with him.

“Does Doug know? About your infidelity?” your father tried to hurt you with his questioning. 

“Doug knows all he needs to know. That I don’t want to be with him, and that I’m sorry for not loving him the way I thought I did.” 

“You’re making a mistake. Over a silly little crush you had years ago.” Your father’s volume grew again.

“If you hadn’t kept us apart… if you had just given him a chance…how do you know what would have happened? My heart broke into a million pieces after I thought he abandoned me. Imagine how my heart broke learning about the lies you led me to believe all these years.” You explained to him, and your mother. Both of them stood silently. “You always preached about forgiveness and honesty…but you never bothered to follow any of your own teachings, did you?” you added that last part just to spite him, to aggravate him. 

“You have no ground to stand on,” he started, “Trying to speak on my sins, when I was just trying to do what was best for you. And you still disappointed me.”

“I guess we can just be disappointed in each other.” You were done with the conversation, and the arguing, and you turned to walk away. Your parents could continue to cast stones in a glass house if they wanted to, but you were going to remain above it. 

“Is lying worse than giving birth to a bastard?” your father’s voice cut through the tension filled air, and stopped you in your tracks.

You went cold, and then burning hot. Every cell in your body was lit with rage, and it seemed impossible for you to breathe. Years of pain, anger and sadness came back to you in an instant. How dare he. How could this man, your father, who claims to love you, a holy man, throw this in your face? You turned to face him again in that dead silent room, trying to keep yourself from visibly shaking. Nobody spoke of your secret, not your parents, not your extended family, not you. And now he was wielding it at you, like a weapon. There was heat in your face, and your bottom lip threatened to tremble from the flood of emotions. 

“Do not talk about her like that.” Your voice was low, but shaking, as you warned him. “After everything I went through, you have no right to throw that in my face.”

“It was your fault for being so reckless.”

“Yes, she was an accident…” you had to try and find your composure, “But I wanted to keep her.” Tears came to your eyes at the painful memory. “You didn’t even let me see her! I don’t even know where she is or what she looks like, and that is _your_ fault! I wanted to keep her! Do you have any clue how painful it is for me?! To wake up everyday and know that somewhere out there, I have a daughter, and I’ve never even met her!” you quickly wiped the tears from your face, “You have a granddaughter and you didn’t want her, she was unwanted from the very beginning! You shipped me off to keep your reputation with the church, and it was all at my expense!” a deep sob hit your chest, and you pointed an angry finger at your father, “You stay away from me, don’t talk to me, don’t call me, nothing! I am done letting you ruin my life! Some man of God, you are.”

You were out of that house in a matter of seconds, slamming the door behind you and speeding off in your car, sniffling and breathing heavily with adrenaline. What was so wrong about your story? You fell in love at a young age, and while you two were opposites, it worked. It worked beautifully; it was perfect for the two of you. How different your life could have been if you had known the truth all along. If James had been able to contact you after he left for military school, maybe the two of you would have stayed together. Maybe you would have been able to keep your daughter, the secret love child nobody knew about that your parents had made you put up for adoption at the time. You could have had a family. Maybe James wouldn’t be going to space. 

After another sob slammed you in the ribs, you pulled your car over to the side of the road and put it in park, allowing yourself to take your eyes off of the road. You put your face in your hands and let yourself cry a few more tears. Talking about your daughter was like opening the deepest of your old wounds, if anything in your life made you feel like a failure, or filled you with regret, it was that. You knew you should have handled the entire situation differently, but you allowed your family to sway you, believing it was the right thing to do. 

But you had a chance to make things right now.

You reached into your glove compartment and pulled out a notepad and pen that you had left in there for taking notes in your free time. You flipped to a clean page and touched the pen to the paper, but you paused. How could you possibly word such a letter? What could you say to lessen the blow, or to make everything right again? If anything, it was time to be honest. 

_James,_

_After all of these years, and everything we’ve been through, I’m not sure of what to say except that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything my parents put you through, and for what they put us through. I’m sorry that I blamed you and that I held onto so much anger towards you for so long. But more than anything, I want to thank you for all of the times you were there for me, especially when I felt so alone. I want to thank you for reaching out to me and opening my eyes. These last few weeks, all I can think about is what our lives could have been like if things played out differently._

_I left Doug. I went home and packed my things and left. I don’t know exactly where I’m going to go, but I knew I couldn’t marry him. Not after seeing you again and not after everything that happened between us. I couldn’t say I loved you back that night in the motel because I was afraid. I was afraid of what it meant now that so much has changed. I’m afraid that maybe my perception of love isn’t what it should be, or maybe there are different kinds of love that make sense to different people, and that is a new concept I’m still learning about. I loved Doug for some time because he was right for me given the circumstances. And I loved you for so many years because it just seemed impossible not to. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but I do want you to know that I still love you now, and while it sounds scary to admit, I’m ready to let you know that. I suppose I just needed you to be the brave one and say it first. Just like the old days._

_There’s one more thing you should know. I’ve kept a secret from you, and the world, for so long. Now that you’re leaving this world, it feels wrong to let you do so without telling you. I’m afraid of what telling you this secret could mean for us, or if it could change the way you feel about me. If it does, I can’t say that I blame you. But please try to understand how hard it was for me to hold onto this for so long, and please try to understand the reasons for me doing so. That night in the restaurant, you told me you wish you had settled down and started a family before leaving, and that you wish you were leaving a legacy. I have to admit to you that you are leaving more than me behind when you go up in space, and in a way, you already have left a legacy._

_Shortly after you left for military school, I found out I was pregnant. When I told my parents, they went absolutely ballistic. It went without saying that we all knew who the father was. My father shipped me off to live with my aunt who lived out of town for the remainder of my pregnancy. He told me it was to protect my reputation, but I know now it was to protect his, and to further keep me from having contact with you. I gave birth to a girl, but my parents had already convinced me to give her up, and they had arranged for her to be adopted the minute she was born. I didn’t even get to see her before they took her out of the room. It was one of the worst days of my life. I can still remember hearing her cry after taking her first breath. My family and I never spoke of it again, and I have no idea where the baby was placed._

_I am so unbelievably sorry for not telling you sooner, but I had no idea how to even tell you. And upon seeing you again after ten years, how was I supposed to tell you that you were a father? I wanted to, believe me I did, but I was so ashamed and so scared of you hating me for it. I think about our daughter almost every day, about what she could possibly look like, if she has my eyes but your nose, or if she is shy like me but brave like you. I think about what it would be like if we could all be together like a family._

_I hope you can forgive me, and I hope this doesn’t change the way you feel about me. Please, be safe and come back home to us down here on earth. Your family needs you. I need you. Thank you for your bravery, and saving all of mankind, including me. You’re a hero. You’ve always been my hero._

_I love you, forever and always._

_Angel_

After pouring your heart out onto that piece of paper, you put your car back in drive and hit the gas. You knew it would be a stretch, but if you drove through the night, you might be able to make it to the launch in time. You still had a chance to make things right. You had been to the launch site once before to meet with the recruiting team when you were being considered for recruitment, and you remembered that it was quite the drive, even when the weather cooperated. 

The road was long, and the snow strained your eyes, but you stayed on course. You couldn’t let James go to space without him getting that letter. There was open road, then traffic, highways and then byways, all miles melting together in what seemed like the journey of your life. You were going to make it, or so you thought. Upon entering the town, traffic came to a standstill. There were miles and miles of cars, people coming from all over to see the launch and wish the astronauts well before they left on their voyage. You slammed your hand on the steering wheel in frustration as you came to complete stop. Cars were honking and creeping closer to the far end of town where NASA’s launch site was. The time on the clock was not your friend, you had less than an hour to make it to the launch pad. 

Time crept on faster than the traffic, and eventually all cars came to a complete stop. People got out of their cars and climbed out, already looking towards the sky. You shouted and cursed and honked your horn, trying to convince them to get back in their cars or to at least let you continue, but nobody budged. And then you heard the loud rumbling in the distance, and the sound of people cheering. “No.” you jumped out of your car like everyone else and looked up at the sky, just in time to see the shuttle come into view. The crowds around you were in jubilation, despite the bitter cold, they cheered and danced and clapped with high hopes as the spaceship continued its ascent into the sky. “No!” you seemed to be the only one in the crowd who wasn’t in celebration.  
You were too late. You felt your heart breaking all over again. He was leaving, going somewhere where you couldn’t reach him, all over again. And again, without knowing the truth. 

That shuttle and the flames blasting behind it were a beacon of hope for every human being, including yourself, but the moment was too bittersweet to be happy. Every second that ship climbed higher, James grew further and further away. You wondered what it must have been like to be in his shoes. You wondered if he was disappointed that you hadn’t made it, or if he somehow knew that you had tried to make it. He did make a point to tease you about being late to everything. Was he even thinking about you? Something told you in your heart that he was. The thought brought you some reprieve. 

Once the shuttle was out of sight, people started to get back in their cars, while others retreated back indoors. The noise level died down in the atmosphere, and again, the world started to look dead. You climbed back into your car with a heavy heart and rested your forehead against the steering wheel, sitting with your guilt. But then the idea dawned on you, you could use the contacts you made with NASA to right this wrong. Maybe they wouldn’t be willing to, but it was worth a try. You owed James that much. Once the traffic started to move again, you continued to make your way to the launch site, and the smell of burnt fuel grew stronger in the air. When you were only a block away, you were stopped by security, and despite trying to explain to them that you had been there before, they weren’t willing to let you in. That still wasn’t enough to stop you. You put your car in park and frantically searched your phone, you searched previous calls, text messages and emails, and then you finally found the number you were searching for.

You knew you sounded like a crazed woman trying to explain to the recruitment team that you needed a favor, but that seemed like the only possible way to get your letter to James. When they told you that they would be willing to transmit the message to him, you were so relieved that it was hard to breathe. For a split second, you were embarrassed that your letter was going to be seen by someone else’s eyes, but perhaps that was a small price to pay for telling the person that mattered. The guard let you past the gate, and someone met you at the doors of the building, and once your shaky hands finally released that piece of paper, it felt like you were putting your secret out to the world. The man assured you that James would get a digitized version of your letter, and that the astronauts would be able to send a couple messages back to loved ones during their voyage. You hoped, you prayed, that he would be willing to contact you after reading that letter. But you knew that it was his decision. 

Weeks went by. Then months. And there wasn’t any word from him.

You eventually found your own apartment, and you started piecing back together the shards of your broken life. It was hard to explain to friends and family about why your wedding had been cancelled, and it was harder to look them in the eye after they had spoken to your mother who had no qualms telling them what had happened. Yes, you technically had an affair, even if it only lasted one night. Yes, that affair ultimately led to the break up of your engagement. However, you considered what you had with James Mace to be a lifelong love affair. How could you explain that to people so that they would understand? The truth is, they likely wouldn’t. So, you tried not to let it bother you.

Life went on, work days came and went, holidays came and went, but there was no message from James. You had started to convince yourself that he was angry with you about your groundbreaking admission, and you couldn’t be upset with him over it. Your mind bounced back and forth between believing that he just hadn’t managed to message you but that he had forgiven you, and that you were never going to hear from him again. Moments of hope would fade into moments of despair, and then grow back into moments of hope again. It was torturous. And then one night, there was a notification on your phone. “You have received a video transmission via NASA communications” it read. Your heart raced, instantly waking you from the sleepy haze you were in. You sat up in bed, not bothering to turn on your lamp before tapping the notification to watch the message. 

You saw James in the video, but the picture was blurry. From what you could make out, it looked like he had grown his hair out, and a beard, and he looked so… tired. He didn’t look like the man you remembered, but it was him. The video started to pixelate and break up, cutting in and out, flashing between bits of color and a black screen. Your smile faded when you realized that something must have been wrong. You could make out only parts of what he said. “Almost there…”, “Have to be quick…”, something about not being able to send another message maybe. The entire video lasted just over ten seconds before it cut out. You re-watched it again, and again, and you swore at one point you heard him say “I love you”, but it was hard to make out. 

It was more than disappointing, it was devastating. You felt like you had been waiting forever for this moment, to hear from him, and when it finally happened, it wasn’t what you expected. You had to step back and remind yourself that this wasn’t his fault, he was sending you a message from space, from millions of miles away amongst the stars. Of course, there were technical difficulties. Maybe he hadn’t said everything you were hoping due to a time constraint, or tech issues, but he had still said those words you were longing to hear, that he loved you. Still, you were sad, you were sad to see him looking so distant and tired and not like himself, and you were sad that the message had been cut short. 

But he messaged you, he was alive, he was thinking of you, he was saving the world, and he still loved you. That was all you needed to know. You would wait. When he came back, you would be there to welcome him home, and your lives could start anew from there. 

Another number of days passed, and then a week, and you were hoping to hear from him again, somehow. You had no clue if he was okay or not, until the light came. You were sitting in your office, typing up notes, when the scenery outside suddenly lit up. You turned towards the window, having to squint, noticing that the brightness was too much on your eyes. The sun was shining. The astronauts had completed their mission, restoring sunshine to the frozen earth. The entire town lit up with celebration, news channels immediately started reporting the exciting news.  
Mankind was saved. The world was jubilation. It was time for the heroes to come home. It was time for James to come back.

You were like a giddy young girl again, waiting for him, daydreaming about your future together. You found yourself standing outside often, just letting the sun warm your skin, not being able to explain how it made you feel closer to him. The snow and ice started to melt; everyone’s spirits were lifted, including your own. The idea of the future you were now going to have with James excited you to the point where you caught yourself looking at houses, looking online at wedding dresses, thinking about whether to try and invite the family or to just elope to some place beautiful. You were convinced life was going to be perfect. You even thought about trying to figure out who had adopted your daughter, and maybe seeing if some form of contact could be made. On a whim, with hardly any thought, you reached out to the adoption agency that you parents had used, hoping to at least learn something about the child you had given up. Your life was going to be about peace again, you just knew it.

But then the terrible news came weeks later. NASA couldn’t establish communications with the Icarus II. The status of the ship and its crew were unknown. People waited with baited breath for their heroes to return to earth, as did you, but there was no sign of them. NASA sent out another shuttle to try and search for them, or any clues, and they returned with pieces of the wreckage. All crew members were declared dead. And your life came crashing down. 

It was like your heart had been ripped out of your chest and blown apart right before your eyes. Upon hearing the news, you got so distraught that you physically got sick. You sobbed for days, unable to eat or sleep. There was no comfort to be had. James was gone, and unlike the time before, he wasn’t coming back. It was a deep kind of pain that you knew would take years to heal from, and even then, you would never be the same again. You didn’t know if you would ever find love again, and you were fine with that, it felt wrong to even think about moving on. You had already done that once before, and it turned out to be the wrong decision. 

Of all the heartache and the sadness, those close to you had to remind you of two good things that came from your story. The sun was alive, and so was all of humanity. Even more, you gained the courage to try and find your daughter. Even though you would never try to separate her from what she came to know as the family that cared for her and loved her, you could at least know that she was thriving. Never seeing her face had haunted you, until a year after James’s death when you received a letter from her adopted family. You read that letter with tears of joy and trembling hands, learning so much more than you already knew.

Her name was Olivia, she was she smartest kid in her fourth-grade class, her favorite color was sky blue and she wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up. They included a picture of her with the letter, sitting on a swing at the park. You could see yourself in her, but you could also see James as well, she had his nose, his chin, and that same smile you would always remember so vividly. She was absolutely beautiful. 

Your soul eventually found peace with everything that had happened in your life. It was for the best; you knew you couldn’t change anything. While your heart would never be fully mended for James, it beat with warmth for your daughter. You once had nothing but questions, but at least now you had answers. And when you needed to find those moments of peace, you would take the picture of Olivia and go to the local park, where you would sit on the bench and bask in the warmth of the sunlight shining from above. It was in those moments that you felt whole again. 

The End


End file.
